T^        T         V    • 

Edu)m 

Bateman 

Morris 


I  I'i  ,'   ''  '!• 


THE    LAST    FADING     BANNER    OF    THE    DAY 


MERE    MAN 

'By 
EDWIN  BATEMAN  MORRIS 


Author  of  "Blue  Anchor  Inn," 
"The  Millionaire,"  etc. 


Illustrated  by  Ralph  L.  Boyer 


THE     PENN     PUBLISHING 

COMPANY  PHILADELPHIA 

1914 


COPYRIGHT 
1914  BY 
THE  PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 


Merc  Man 


Illustrations 


PAGE 


THE  LAST  FADING  BANNER  OF  THE  DAY  .  Frontispiece 
HE  LOOKED  OVER  THE  WALL         ...       42 

"  ARE  You  IN  LOVE  ?  " 124 

SHE  THOUGHT  ONLY  OF  HIM  .     202 


Mere  Man 


Mere  Man 


CHAPTER  I 

MISS  JANE  HOWELL  was  conversing. 
It  is  a  pity  to  begin  a  perfectly  well- 
meaning  story  with  a  bit  of  tautology  like  that, 
but  it  is  unavoidable.  Miss  Howell  was  always 
conversing.  Talking,  with  her,  was  a  condition, 
a  state  of  mind,  a  physical  function,  like  the 
beating  of  her  heart  or  the  circulation  of  her 
blood.  As  a  conversationalist,  she  was  thor- 
ough. Nothing  was  left  to  chance.  She  left 
no  yearning  listener  hanging  helpless  over  an 
abyss  of  doubt. 

If  she  mentioned  casually  that  her  father  had 
once  been  postmaster  in  the  little  town  of  Judas 
Iscariot,  Arizona,  she  did  not  leave  that  bare, 
barren  fact  to  rest  on  the  unsatisfied  mind,  for- 

9 


MERE  MAN 

ever  a  thorn  and  a  matter  of  uncertainty.  Her 
frank  nature  led  her  to  tell  why  he  was  the 
postmaster  of  that  particular  town,  and  what 
he  said  on  the  day  of  his  appointment,  and 
what  his  wife  said  and  his  brothers  and  his 
sisters  and  his  aunts  and  his  cousin  in  Pennsyl- 
vania. In  the  end  the  story  she  was  telling 
was  a  complete  work  of  reference,  and  if  prop- 
erly edited  and  printed  would  have  consisted 
of  about  two  lines  of  text  per  page  and  the  re- 
mainder of  exhaustive  foot-notes.  The  word 
exhaustive  is  used  advisedly. 

Such  conversation  required  concentration. 
The  chime  of  plates  at  Mrs.  Prouty's  boarding- 
house,  the  manceuvers  of  the  vegetable  dishes 
marching  and  countermarching  and  crisscross- 
ing over  the  table,  passed  by  nimble  hands 
grown  used  to  such  legerdemain,  disturbed 
Miss  Howell  not  in  the  least.  Her  mind  was 
on  the  seriousness  of  her  task.  She  was  ob- 
livious to  such  small  things. 

"  Tea  or  milk,    Miss   Howell  ? "    demanded 

Mrs.  Prouty,  wedging  in  the  question  at  the 

10 


MERE  MAN 

point  of  the  former  lady's  remarks  where  there 
should  have  been  a  comma. 

"  Coffee,  please,"  Miss  Howell  replies,  feeling 
herself  addressed,  not  pausing  an  instant.  Her 
story  marches  on. 

"  And  no  one,"  she  said,  "  supposed  they 
would  do  it.  People  have  talked  about  it,  cer- 
tainly, just  as  they  have  talked  about  breaking 
windows  and  burning  houses  and  pouring  ink 
in  the  letter  boxes.  Though  what  I  can't  un- 
derstand is  why  the  women  don't  get  caught 
doing  such  daring  things  as  they  do  in  Eng- 
land. Some  people  say  that  is  a  proof  of  the 
superior  intelligence  of  women  over " 

"  Now,  Miss  Howell,"  observed  young  Mr. 
Derry,  "  you  are  talking  woman's  suffrage,  I 
know.  Don't  try  to  pretend  you  are  not." 

The  lady  laughed  in  the  helpless  way  she 
had  when  she  felt  she  was  being  teased.  But 
the  gulf  between  earnestness  and  frivolity  was 
one  she  could  not  leap  across  at  so  short  notice. 

"  Of  course  I'm  talking  woman's  suffrage," 

she  exclaimed,  stoutly.     "  What  else  should  I 

ii 


MERE  MAN 

talk  about  to-day  ?  Why,  a  friend  I  met  on 
the  street  said  there  were  three  thousand 
women  outside  the  hall  who  couldn't  get  in. 
You  know  this  was  the  final  day  of  the  Equal 
Suffrage  Convention.  Of  course  you  read 
about  it  in  the  papers.  And  what  happened 
this  afternoon  is  going  to  revolutionize  every- 
thing. The  action  of  the  militants  in  England 
doesn't  compare  with  it  in  effectiveness.  I 
really  think  the  women  have  solved  the  ques- 
tion at  last." 

"  I'm  all  impatience,"  cried  Mr.  Derry. 
"  What  did  they  do  ?  Willy,  urge  the  potatoes 
this  way,  please." 

"This  friend  of  mine  says — who  was  there 
right  in  the  hall"  she  began,  by  way  of  reply 
— "  that  the  principal  speaker  of  the  afternoon, 
this  Mrs. — now  what  is  her  name  ?  I  thought 
I  had  it  right  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue."  She 
waved  her  hand  up  and  down  helplessly. 
"You  know,  the  woman  who  helped  in  the 
shirt-waist  strike.  It  seems  to  me  her  name 
began  with  B.  Oh,  pshaw  1 " 

12 


MERE  MAN 

"  Never  mind  the  name,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Prouty,  wisely.  "  We  are  all  waiting  to  hear 
your  story." 

"  I  almost  had  it  then.     It  is  a  short  name." 

"  Brown  ?  "  suggested  Mr.  Derry,  at  random. 

"  No." 

"  Barker  ?  "  offered  some  one. 

Miss  Howell  smiled. 

"  Barker,"  she  cried,  elated  at  having  run 
this  fact  to  earth.  "  Now  let  me  see.  Where 
was  I?  Oh,  yes.  Well,  this  friend  of  mine 
said  that  Mrs.  Barker  made  a  very  impressive 
speech.  She  is  absolutely  beautiful  and  wears 
the  most  expensive  clothes,  and,  when  she  talks, 
every  one  goes  wild.  She  had  on  a  blue  net 
dress  over  crepe  de  chine  with  real  lace  at  the 
wrist  and  throat,  and  only  one  piece  of  jewelry, 
an  amethyst  pin  set  in  diamonds.  She  is  the 
one  who  advocates  that  all  women  in  the 
country  refuse  to  marry  until  the  men  grant 
them  the  ballot.  She  says  that  will  bring 
them  to  terms  quicker  than  anything  else. 
And  she  proposes  to  tour  the  country  from  now 

13 


MERE  MAN 

on  getting  as  many  women  as  possible  to  sign 
the  pledge  of  celibacy — refusing  absolutely  to 
marry  any  man." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Derry,  patiently,  "  and  what 
happened  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"She  started  her  crusade,"  cried  Miss  Howell, 
"  and  three  hundred  Washington  women  signed 
their  names  ! " 

Mr.  Derry  held  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"  What  chance  is  there  for  me  ?  "  he  moaned. 

A  girl  entered  the  room  and  drew  out  the 
chair  between  the  two  speakers. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked,  adjusting 
the  already  faultless  lace  that  hung  below  her 
throat. 

Miss  Howell  reached  out  her  hand  and  laid  it 
on  the  girl's  arm. 

"  I  was  telling  them  about  the  action  of  the 
convention  this  afternoon." 

The  newcomer  nodded. 

"  You  know  about  it  ? "  cried  the  other, 
eagerly. 

"  Yes,  I  was  there." 

14 


MERE  MAN 

A  gentleman  across  the  table  who  was  called 
the  "  Colonel  "  cleared  his  throat. 

"  Miss  Carver,"  he  said,  addressing  the  new- 
comer, "  I  have  listened  with  great  attention  to 
Miss  Howell's  statement  as  to  the  action  of  the 
convention,  and  I  want  to  ask  you  frankly,  as  a 
woman  of  reason,  what  you  think  of  such  a 
thing  ?  " 

"Am  I  a  woman  of  reason?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  Of  course  you  are,"  asserted  the  Colonel, 
warmly. 

"  And  of  infinite  beauty,"  observed  Mr.  Derry, 
industriously  stirring  his  coffee. 

The  girl  gazed  at  the  back  of  the  young 
man's  averted  head.  She  laughed  outright. 

"  That  frivolous  young  man,"  said  the 
Colonel,  "  has  unwittingly  stumbled  upon  the 
very  line  of  argument  I  wish  to  pursue.  I 
maintain  that  those  three  hundred  women  who 
refused  to  marry  until  women  are  allowed  to 
vote  are  three  hundred  women  who  could  not 
get  married  if  they  wanted  to.  A  handsome, 
bright  young  woman  like  you — if  you  will 

15 


MERE  MAN 

excuse  an  old  man  for  saying  so — who  could 
have  her  choice  of  any  one  in  the  whole 
United  States,  wouldn't  have  signed  that 
paper." 

The  color  deepened  on  Miss  Carver's  face. 

"  In  a  moment,  Colonel,"  she  said,  "  I  am 
going  to  blush  with  confusion." 

"  The  Colonel  is  right,"  asserted  Derry  ;  "  it's 
just  a  lot  of  the  old  standbys  who  have  been  on 
hand  for  the  past  forty  years  that  agreed  not  to 
get  married.  Of  course  they  agreed.  They 
had  to.  The  idea  had  been  wished  on  them 
years  ago." 

Miss  Carver  bent  over  her  plate  and  smiled. 

"  I  should  like  your  frank  and  unbiased 
opinion,  Miss  Carver,"  pursued  the  Colonel. 
"  I  know  you  have  said  you  favored  woman's 
suffrage.  But  do  you  honestly  think  that  any 
young,  beautiful  woman  with  a  chance  to  get 
married  would  have  signed  that  paper  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  to  hear  your  opinion  on  that  too," 
exclaimed  the  young  man  beside  her. 

"  Come  now,"  cried  the  Colonel. 
16 


MERE  MAN 

Miss  Carver  looked  up,  and  her  eyes  shone 
mischievously. 

"  I'm  embarrassed  at  having  to  say  this,"  she 
observed,  "  but  did  you  say  I  was — ahem — 
young  and  beautiful  and  probably  marriage- 
able ?  " 

"  I  most  certainly  did,"  asseverated  the 
Colonel. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  I  signed  the  paper." 


CHAPTER  II 

IN  the  third  floor  rear  room  of  Mrs.  Prouty's 
boarding-house,  which  Deborah  Carver  oc- 
cupied but  which  Miss  Howell,  abiding  theoret- 
ically in  the  room  adjoining,  used  as  an  overflow 
for  herself,  her  clothes  and  her  conversation,  the 
latter  was  making  preparations  to  go  out.  If 
Deborah  Carver  had  intended  to  go  out  on  that 
mild  September  evening,  she  would  simply 
have  put  on  her  hat,  taken  her  gloves  and  de- 
parted. But  not  so  Miss  Howell.  She  had 
spent  half  an  hour  already  trying  the  effect  of 
several  different  waists  upon  herself,  each  change 
of  scene  requiring  a  complete  removal  and 
substitution  of  more  of  the  beribboned  and 
belaced  strata  that  lay  underneath.  She  was 
not  really  satisfied  now,  for  the  last  shirt-waist 
showed  the  mark  of  the  iron  in  an  obscure 

place  ;  but  there  was  no  time  to  change  again, 

18 


MERE  MAN 

and  seizing  her  white  lisle  gloves,  she  left  the 
room.  Deborah,  reading  in  a  big  comfortable 
chair,  smiled  and  wondered  if  she  had  really  gone. 
She  returned  almost  immediately,  completely  out 
of  breath  from  running  up  the  stairs,  saying  that 
she  had  forgotten  to  put  on  suitable  evening 
shoes.  And  then,  after  she  had  returned  once 
more,  because  both  the  gloves  she  had  were  for 
the  right  hand,  and  again  for  an  umbrella,  be- 
cause the  paper  had  said  there  might  be  rain 
that  night  or  the  next  day,  she  was  finally 
gone. 

Deborah  stretched  out  her  arms  lazily,  and 
throwing  her  book  on  the  bed  walked  to  the 
window  where  she  could  look  out  over  the  vista 
of  other  people's  back  yards,  commanded  ap- 
parently by  a  myriad  of  other  third  floor  back 
windows,  where  she  knew  lived  workers  in  the 
hive  like  herself.  But  no  face  appeared  any- 
where. The  still,  hot  night  had  driven  them 
all  out  to  their  separate  diversions — to  the  cool 
joy  of  the  open  street  cars,  or  to  the  hot,  but 
exciting  interior  of  the  stock  company  theatre, 

19 


MERE  MAN 

or  to  the  dance  halls.  It  seemed  as  if  she  were 
the  only  human  looking  out  upon  that  hollow 
square  of  houses.  The  air  in  her  room  was  hot 
and  still.  With  the  falling  of  the  dusk,  the  ex- 
citement of  the  day  had  left  her,  and  in  its  place 
hung  about  her  a  slight,  intangible  melancholy, 
such  as  comes  to  any  one  who  suddenly  realizes 
she  is  twenty-six. 

When  one  is  ten,  twenty-six  seems  like  a  ripe 
old  age  ;  when  one  is  fifteen  it  seems  like  a  point 
when  one's  destination  in  life  will  have  been 
decided  on,  when  the  ship  will  have  left  port 
under  full  steam  with  the  course  plotted  on  the 
chart.  If  one  is  to  be  married,  it  will  have  been 
done  by  then.  If  she  is  to  succeed  in  some  fine 
pursuit  that  is  to  enrich  the  world,  the  indica- 
tion of  that  success  will  have  begun  to  appear. 
But,  for  Deborah,  twenty-six  had  come  and 
passed,  and  neither  of  these  things  had  hap- 
pened. Her  ship  still  lay  at  the  dock. 

She  turned  away  from  the  window,  where  the 
clatter  of  dishes  and  the  odor  of  kitchen  rose 

from  below.     She  wondered  if  moving  the  trap- 

20 


MERE  MAN 

door  in  the  ceiling  of  the  room  would  afford  an 
outlet  for  the  heated,  heavy  air  that  surrounded 
her.  She  attempted  to  dislodge  it  with  a  cur- 
tain pole,  and  this  proving  ineffectual,  she  de- 
corously closed  the  door  and  presently  the 
bureau  was  surprised  to  find  a  pair  of  white 
shod  feet  resting  where  the  pincushion  ought 
to  have  been.  From  this  point  of  vantage  she 
was  able  to  reach  the  wooden  trap  and  slide  it 
back  from  its  position.  Above,  all  was  dark 
and  exuded  the  heat  of  a  bake-oven.  But  the 
spirit  of  adventure  was  upon  her. 

Of  course,  no  dignified,  aged  woman  of 
twenty-six  should  have  done  it.  It  was  an 
anachronism.  It  was  the  thing  she  would  have 
done  twelve  years  ago — and  been  spanked  as 
a  result  for  being  a  tomboy,  no  doubt.  She 
smiled  as  she  thought  of  it.  At  least  there  was 
no  one  to  spank  her  now.  She  caught  hold  of 
the  sides  of  the  opening  and  her  strong  young 
arms  drew  her  up  into  the  cavern.  What  must 
Mrs.  Prouty  have  thought  had  she  appeared 

then  and  seen  the  two  feet  of  an  angel,  clad  in 

21 


MERE  MAN 

pumps  and  silk  stockings,  disappearing  heaven- 
ward from  the  third  floor  back  room  just  like 
Mr.  Forbes  Robertson  in  the  play  ! 

But  no  Mrs.  Prouty  or  other  deputy  Nemesis 
appeared.  It  was  dusty  in  the  regions  above, 
and  not  very  beneficial  to  white  summer  clothes. 
But  a  short  ladder  led  upward,  at  the  top  of 
which  was  another  trap,  fastened  with  a  rusty 
hook.  And  when  that  was  finally  forced  open, 
there  was  the  moon  shining  in  the  sky. 

She  stepped  out  on  the  pebbly  roof.  It  was 
an  enchanted  garden  she  stood  in.  Two  long 
lines  of  brick  parapet  bounded  her  in,  like 
parterres  of  closely  trimmed  hedge.  The  heads 
of  the  sidewalk  trees  protruded  above  it  and 
sometimes  lapped  over,  their  leaves  rustling  in 
a  pastoral  whisper.  The  moon  shone  pleas- 
antly in  the  sky  above.  In  the  distance  the 
search-light  from  a  hotel  roof-garden  rested  on 
the  obelisk  of  the  Monument.  Turning  to  the 
other  side  she  saw  far  off  the  great  dome  of  the 
Capitol — a  silver  thimble  in  the  moonlight. 

She   might   have  been  some   pre-Renaissance 

22 


MERE  MAN 

Roman  duchess  leaning  on  the  white  marble 
balustrade  of  her  formal  garden. 

All  this  suggested  a  metaphor  to  her.  She 
had  once  been  asked  to  make  a  street  corner 
speech  in  favor  of  woman  suffrage,  and  she  had 
refused,  partly  because  she  had  no  very  con- 
vincing public  argument  and  partly  because,  as 
she  had  said  laughing,  she  "was  not  man 
enough."  She  thought  now  if  she  ever  had  to 
make  that  speech,  she  might  compare  her 
room,  stuffy,  hot,  and  shut-in  to  the  condition 
of  the  voteless  woman  and  her  emergence  out 
into  the  free,  pure  air  with  the  glory  of  the  soft 
night  about  her  to  the  bursting  forth  of  woman 
from  her  cell  and  chains  of  bondage — she 
smiled  as  she  thought  of  those  well-worn 
phrases — into  freedom  and  power  and  her 
rightful  prerogative. 

Of  course  she  could  make  a  speech  if  she 
wanted  to.  The  suffrage  held  out  no  apparent 
advantages  to  her  personally.  She  had  no 
selfish  interest  in  it.  Its  appeal  was  an  ethical 

one  that  roused  her  enthusiasm.     The  propa- 

23 


MERE  MAN 

ganda  was  an  uplifting  effort  for  the  whole 
body  of  women.  She  could  not  help  compar- 
ing it  to  great  movements  like  the  Reformation 
and  the  Renaissance  and  when  she  put  her 
determined  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  she  felt  that 
she  was  revolving  it  in  a  way  to  make  history 
— to  accomplish  something  lasting  and  worth 
while.  It  seemed  as  if  this  were  a  new  Re- 
naissance— an  awakening  of  woman — a  burst- 
ing forth  out  of  mediaeval  darkness  into  light. 

She  was  willing  to  devote  her  life,  now  passed 
the  mark  where  she  should  have  picked  out  her 
sphere  of  usefulness,  to  such  a  deserving  cause ; 
to  march  to  the  crusades,  carrying  a  spear  that 
should  help  in  the  beginning  of  a  new  era  for 
woman.  Her  enthusiasm  and  her  conscience, 
stung  by  what  her  body  had  not  accomplished, 
drove  her  on.  Following  the  dictates  of  the 
latter,  with  the  fortitude  of  Spartan  women,  she 
had  offered  up  the  thing  most  dear  to  her,  and 
taken  a  vow  of  celibacy.  She,  Deborah  Carver, 
had  doomed  herself  to  be  an  old  maid — for  a 
principle. 

24 


MERE  MAN 

She  laughed  and  looked  over  the  parapet 
into  the  lighted  room  of  a  wing  below  her 
where  a  dark-haired  young  man,  in  his  third 
floor  room,  bent  over  his  desk.  That  young 
man,  whoever  he  might  be,  and  every  other 
man,  henceforth  had  no  interest  for  her.  She 
might  lean  over  the  parapet  as  she  did  now, 
and  look  at  him,  like  Moses  viewing  the  prom- 
ised land,  but  she  must  not  endeavor  to  possess 
him.  He  seemed  to  be  a  nice  person.  She 
was  interested  in  the  slim  fingers  which  held 
the  papers  he  read.  His  room  was  furnished 
more  luxuriously  than  most  third  floor  rooms. 
The  flat-topped  desk  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
where  he  sat  was  of  mahogany.  A  brass  drop 
light  with  a  garnet  shade  sat  on  the  desk.  The 
rug  caught  the  light  like  a  real  oriental  rug, 
and  the  pictures  and  hangings  on  the  walls 
spoke  of  a  height  of  ease  and  comfort  to  which 
the  average  boarding  house  did  not  aspire. 
She  gazed  at  the  Promised  Land  with  much 
interest,  speculating  idly  as  to  what  he  might 
be  doing,  until  presently  the  Promised  Land 

25 


MERE  MAN 

rose,  slapped  his  hat  on  his  head  and  turned 
out  the  light.  She  was  alone  then  on  her 
broad  white  roof  with  the  moon  and  the  stars. 

She  had  always  felt  that  one  day  she  should 
be  married.  Her  instincts  and  emotions  all  led 
her  that  way.  Her  life  in  her  school  brought 
her  always  in  contact  with  children,  whom  she 
understood  and  guarded  and  sympathized  with 
by  virtue  of  some  instinct  within  her.  She  had 
the  hovering  wings  of  a  mother.  Yet  she  had 
seen  no  man  whom  she  would  marry. 

She  often  found  herself  being  terribly  excited 
over  Bobby  Mitchell — for  five  minutes  at  a 
time.  But  then  she  realized  he  was  pursuing 
her  and  saw  love  and  devotion  in  his  eyes  and 
immediately  became  bored.  She  liked  his 
automobile,  for  that  made  her  go  fast  and  pro- 
vided her  with  excitement.  But  the  man  who 
was  to  possess  her  must  control  her  with  an 
iron  hand.  He  must  be  a  man  to  whom,  when 
she  was  tired  of  struggling  to  arrange  her  life, 
she  could  turn  over  the  reins  and  let  him  drive. 

Whereas   she  controlled  Bobby  Mitchell — and 

26 


MERE  MAN 

he  was  merely  typical  of  them  all — with  more 
ease  than  Bobby  controlled  the  big  car  which 
responded  immediately  to  his  touch  on  the 
lever. 

She  heard  the  newsboys  on  the  street  below 
crying  an  extra  paper,  and  when  she  descended 
from  her  roof  she  purchased  one.  It  contained 
a  list  of  the  women  who  had  signed  the  celibacy 
pact.  There  was  her  own  name  near  the  top. 
She  snipped  it  out  with  her  scissors  and  impaled 
it  upon  her  pincushion. 

"  Lest  we  forget,"  she  said,  smiling,  and  un- 
did the  fastening  at  her  throat. 


27 


CHAPTER  III 

nice,  hot  sun  caressed  the  street  until 
the  weary  asphalt  sank  under  your  feet. 
Deborah  walked  along  in  the  narrow  shade  of 
the  buildings,  aimlessly  gazing  into  their  show 
windows.  Her  work  over  for  the  day  there  re- 
mained no  place  to  go  but  her  room  at  Mrs. 
Prouty's — a  place  which  she  religiously  avoided 
when  it  was  not  absolutely  necessary  for  her  to 
go  there.  People,  when  their  work  is  over,  like 
to  go  home  and  find  comfort  and  cheer  in  sur- 
roundings that  are  familiar  to  them.  But  if 
you  have  to  climb  two  flights  of  stairs  to  get  to 
your  home,  and  it  is  only  twelve  feet  by  fifteen 
when  you  arrive,  and  has  the  same  dejected 
appearance  that  it  had  when  you  left,  it  holds 
out  few  inducements.  Deborah  did  not  go 
home. 

Filled  with  notions  of  clothes  for  the  fall,  she 

slipped  with  easy  nonchalance  into  an  ornate 

28 


MERE  MAN 

shop  and  wandered  about  until  she  found  long 
glass  cases  in  which  were  expensive  gowns — 
"  creations,"  they  called  them  in  that  store — 
fashioned  out  of  bewilderingly  soft  and  costly 
fabrics  which  were  draped  and  turned  and 
tortured  into  the  very  newest  designs.  It 
was  an  education  to  any  one  who  in  a  few 
weeks  would  have  to  make  her  own  fall 
dresses — both  of  them.  She  looked  these  over 
carefully  and  made  copious  mental  notes.  But 
one  of  the  duchesses  of  the  place,  observing  the 
desecration  of  the  hallowed  spot  where  stood 
only  those  with  money  in  their  purses  who  came 
to  purchase,  bore  down  upon  her  with  haughty 
disdain. 

"  Did  you  wish  to  see  something  ?  "  she  said, 
loftily. 

Deborah  looked  clear  through  the  disdain. 
She  smiled  pleasantly. 

"  That  smoke-colored  one — does  it  hook  up 
the  back  ?  " 

"  I   don't   know.     Were  you  looking  for  an 

evening  dress  ?  " 

29 


MERE  MAN 

The  other  laughed  a  soft,  low  laugh. 

"  Not  I,"  she  said,  turning  to  the  girl.  "  But 
wouldn't  you  like  to  have  one  like  that  made  of 
challis  ?  The  material  wouldn't  cost  more  than 
three  dollars." 

Deborah  was  thoroughly  interested  in  her 
scheme.  The  salesgirl's  face  lit  up  for  a  mo- 
ment at  the  idea.  That  small  second  of  warmth 
volatilized  her  aloofness  and  it  floated  off  into 
thin  air.  After  that  it  was  impossible  to  climb 
back  into  the  strategic  position  she  had  occupied 
before. 

"  I  think  I'll  do  it  for  myself,"  she  said.  She 
looked  about  her  guardedly.  "  Would  you  like 
to  see  the  dress  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  should  like  to  see  it." 

The  dress,  rustling  with  tissue  paper,  came 
down  from  its  place,  and  the  two  alert  vivisec- 
tionists  noted  its  anatomy  and  physiology.  In 
the  course  of  this  the  sales  duchess,  recognizing 
a  certain  unmistakable  humanity  in  Deborah, 
was  divulging  the  fact  that  it  was  only  two 
weeks  before  the  such  and  such  dance,  for  which 

30 


MERE  MAN 

she  must  have  a  dress.  And,  never  doubting  her 
companion's  interest  in  the  matter,  she  spoke  of 
men  with  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes  of  one  in  the 
midst  of  the  game.  When  Deborah  caught 
that  look  of  enthusiasm,  accustomed  and 
hardened  as  she  was  to  the  confidences  of  chance 
people,  a  lump  of  lead  seemed  to  drop,  uninvited 
and  unexpected,  into  her  heart.  For  that  was 
the  enthusiasm  that  was  now  denied  to  her. 
Her  interest  in  the  dresses  soon  waned. 
Presently  she  gathered  up  her  bag  and  gloves 
and,  thanking  the  girl,  went  out  into  the  street 
again. 

The  lump  of  lead  was  still  in  the  same  place. 
She  decided  to  walk  to  the  headquarters  of  the 
Equal  Suffrage  Association  and  leave  it  there  if 
possible.  Mrs.  Dobson,  secretary  of  the  associa- 
tion and  chairman  of  a  thousand  committees 
and  sub-committees,  bounced  up  from  her  desk 
and  embraced  her  when  she  entered.  Deborah 
adjusted  her  hat  and  attire. 

"  Sit  down,"  cried  Mrs.  Dobson. 

Mrs.  Dobson  herself  never  sat  down.     Some- 


MERE  MAN 

times  she  perched  for  an  instant  on  the  edge 
of  her  swivel  chair.  But  most  of  the  time  she 
was  darting  about  like  the  squirrels  in  the  park. 

"  My  dear,  I  am  so  glad  you  are  with  us," 
she  said,  running  her  nimble  fingers  over  a 
card-catalogue  drawer  and  pulling  out  a  card. 

"  I  think  it's  my  duty — I  think  it  is  every 
one's  duty  to  help  in  every  way  possible," 
Deborah  replied,  stoutly. 

Mrs.  Dobson  pounced  on  the  fountain  pen 
that  lay  on  her  desk. 

"  It's  the  example  that  counts,"  she  exclaimed, 
adding  some  notation  on  her  card.  "  It's  the 
example  of  noble  self-sacrifice.  That's  the 
spirit  that  is  going  to  win." 

She  held  her  pen  in  her  mouth  and  ran  through 
another  card  index,  descending  upon  the  proper 
card  and  tattooing  it  with  more  hieroglyphics 
which  only  she  could  read. 

"  What's  that  card  index  for  ?  "  demanded  the 
girl. 

"  Congressional.  We  have  all  the  congress- 
men written  up,  showing  just  where  they  stand 

32 


MERE  MAN 

on  the  question."  She  pulled  out  a  card. 
"  There  is  the  man  to  beware  of,"  she  com- 
mented. "  He  is  our  most  astute  foe." 

"  John  Marshall  Lea." 

"  The  same,"  she  repeated,  tartly.  "  Remem- 
ber that  name  as  of  the  Black  Douglas.  He 
has  done  more  to  block  legislation  favorable  to 
us  than  any  five  other  men  in  the  House.  He 
is  the  man  who  is  going  to  oppose  most  bitterly 
the  bill  for  an  equal  suffrage  amendment  in  the 
House  of  Representatives  when  we  bring  the 
question  before  a  committee  of  the  House  in 
November.  If  I  can  beat  him  I  shall  consider 
that  I  have  gone  a  long  way  toward  winning 
the  whole  fight." 

"Very  well,  Mother  Dobson."  The  girl 
laughed.  "  Do  you  realize  you've  wasted  a 
whole  minute  of  your  precious  time  standing 
still?" 

"  Bless  me,  so  I  have."  She  looked  at  the 
clock  and  took  the  receiver  off  the  hook  of  her 
telephone.  "  Don't  go.  I  can  talk  to  you  and 
telephone  at  the  same  time." 

33 


MERE  MAN 

"  I  believe  you  could,"  observed  Deborah. 

"  Remember,"  cried  Mrs.  Dobson,  "  we  are 
going  to  ask  you  to  make  some  speeches  for  us 
soon." 

A  chill  crept  gently  over  Deborah.  She  saw 
herself  standing  on  a  soap-box,  rising  to  ad- 
dress a  roaring,  turbulent,  out-of-doors  crowd. 
Could  she  bring  herself  to  do  it  ?  She  thought 
she  would  infinitely  prefer  to  stand  in  front  of 
the  Capitol  in  a  pillory.  Her  impulse  was  to 
tell  Mrs.  Dobson  so  and  warn  that  lady  not  to 
count  upon  her.  But  she  did  nothing  of  the 
sort.  She  sat  with  her  hands  calmly  folded 
before  her,  telling  herself  that  all  great  move- 
ments must  be  accomplished  by  a  series  of 
sacrifices,  and  that  she  would  not  be  the  one  to 
refuse  when  her  turn  came.  And  all  she  said 
was,  "  Very  well,  Mrs.  Dobson,"  quite  calmly 
and  pleasantly. 

She  did  not  leave  all  her  low  spirits  behind 
her  as  she  had  hoped.  And  when  dusk  fell 
again,  she  was  once  more  sitting  in  her  room 
full  of  the  realization  that  she  was  twenty-six 

34 


MERE  MAN 

and  trying  to  forget  the  idea  by  reading  a 
funny  story.  But  who  can  forget  so  far-reach- 
ing a  calamity  as  that  in  a  mere  story  ?  As  it 
grew  too  dark  to  read,  she  let  the  book  fall  idly 
into  her  lap  and  watched  the  scarlet  moon  rise 
over  the  housetops,  silhouetting  the  chimneys 
and  dormers  and  the  wooden  rails  of  the  apart- 
ment house  porches.  A  soft  after-glow  spread 
like  a  rose  haze  over  all  that  open  square, 
transforming  with  a  magic  touch  the  box-clut- 
tered yards,  and  turning  the  whole  scene,  sordid 
with  its  kitchens  and  scullery  maids,  into  a  soft 
evening  picture.  She  leaned  against  the 
window  frame  and  watched  the  light  gently 
fade.  She  wondered  what  that  scene  looked 
like  from  her  roof,  and  gazed  speculatively  at 
the  trap  in  the  ceiling.  A  trap  it  was  indeed. 
The  lure  of  it  held  her  lightly  in  its  grasp.  It 
was  like  Aladdin's  lamp  to  her.  She  had  but 
to  touch  it,  and  she  was  wafted  away  from  her 
fifteen-dollar  room  to  priceless  Elysian  fields. 
The  door  softly  closed,  two  shoes  left  their  im- 
press on  the  bureau  scarf,  and,  with  the  rustle 

35 


MERE  MAN 

of  no  wings,  a  white  clad  angel  had  disap- 
peared heavenward. 

To  guide  her  in  her  return  through  the  dark 
attic,  she  had  brought  her  tiny  electric  flash- 
light. Virgil,  or  one  of  those  old  fellows  who 
knew  nothing  about  attics,  said  "  Facilis  est 
descensus  in  Averno,"  but  the  descent  from 
the  roof  into  the  darkness  of  this  particular 
Averno  was  anything  but  easy.  So  she 
slipped  the  little  nickel  thing  into  her  belt. 
She  stepped  out  on  the  roof,  and  went  to  the 
parapet  wall. 

In  the  west,  behind  the  square  jagged  sky- 
line, shone  a  narrow  ribbon  of  deep  red  drawn 
across  the  heavy  purple  of  the  sky.  That  was 
the  last  fading  banner  of  the  day.  The  city 
had  given  itself  over  to  night.  Haphazard 
squares  of  light  appeared  on  the  distant  office 
buildings.  Restless  electric  signs  told  their 
story  over  and  over  again.  She  saw  the  mov- 
ing picture  theatre  at  the  street  corner,  blaz- 
ingly  alight,  receive  its  throng  of  people  like  an 
ant-hill.  But  on  the  roof  there  was  almost  no 

36 


MERE  MAN 

sign  of  artificial  night.  The  moon  shone  in 
pastoral  quiet.  The  trees  hanging  over  the 
parapet  wall  were  like  willows  hanging  over 
the  banks  of  a  stream.  And  in  the  midst  of 
their  thick  foliage  she  imagined  she  could  see 
the  figure  of  a  lurking  man,  just  as  one  does  in 
country  fields  at  night,  when  all  around  villain- 
ous pine  trees  lie  in  wait  to  murder  one  and 
steal  his  purse. 

She  gazed  over  the  top  of  the  rear  wall  at 
the  window  where  she  had  seen  the  man  the 
night  before,  but  all  was  dark  there.  The 
moon  shone  in  on  the  floor,  illuminating  a 
small  square  of  the  Eastern  rug,  but  no  other 
thing  was  visible.  She  walked  along  the 
length  of  the  roof,  stepping  over  the  ridges  of 
brick  wall  that  protruded  above  its  level,  in 
accordance  with  the  fire  regulations,  at  the  line 
of  demarkation  of  each  house.  She  gazed 
down  into  unfamiliar  side  yards,  into  window- 
boxes  filled  with  ferns,  into  rooms  where  people 
were  surreptitiously  cooking  things  over  the  gas 
burners,  and  into  a  window  by  which  a  woman 

37 


MERE  MAN 

sat — shame  on  her  in  this  modern  day — rock- 
ing her  baby  to  sleep. 

And  as  Deborah  turned  back  by  the  thick 
foliage  where  she  had  thought  she  saw  the 
figure  of  a  man  she  started  and  stood  still. 

The  imaginary  figure  of  a  man  was  holding 
a  lighted  cigarette  1 


CHAPTER  IV 

DEBORAH  was  properly  frightened.  The 
surprise  of  it  made  her  suddenly  weak  at 
the  knees.  She  felt  as  she  did  in  dreams  when 
she  was  half-way  up  the  stairs  with  a  murder- 
ous robber  pursuing  her,  and  her  feet  refused 
to  move.  But  only  for  an  instant.  Then  she 
turned  for  the  trap-door,  miles  away.  All 
would  have  been  well  had  not  the  nickel-plated 
electric  flash-light — notoriously  undependable  ! 
— slipped  from  her  belt  and  fallen  on  the  roof. 
That  spoiled  everything.  She  could  not  hope 
to  clamber  safely  down  the  steep,  dark  ladder 
to  her  home  with  this  fleet-footed  man  pursu- 
ing her.  She  stooped  to  recover  her  light. 
But  it  had  fallen  in  the  shadow  of  a  projecting 
ridge  of  brick  wall  and  would  not  be  found. 
She  heard  the  footsteps  approaching.  Then 
she  straightened  up,  her  eyes  flashing — a  tower 

39 


MERE  MAN 

of  strength  and  independence.  The  man  was 
upon  her.  She  could  hear  her  heart  beating. 
He  raised  his  hand.  "  Will  he  strike  me  ?  "  she 
thought,  dully.  But  he  only  took  off  his  hat. 
He  spoke.  His  voice  was  suave  and  dignified. 

"  I  must  apologize,"  he  said,  gravely.  "  I 
know  I  frightened  you,  but  I  really  did  not  see 
you  in  time  to  give  you  warning  of  my  pres- 
ence." 

Deborah  murmured  something  in  reply. 

"You  have  lost  your — your — powder-puff," 
said  the  man,  still  with  the  same  gravity. 

"  It  was  an  electric  flash-light,"  she  informed 
him. 

He  bent  over  and  scanned  the  pebbled  sur- 
face of  the  roof. 

"  Naturally,"  he  replied,  whimsically.  "  Part 
of  the  regular  equipment  of  the  wise  virgin  of 
biblical  times." 

He  spoke  in  a  pleasant,  easy,  bantering  tone, 
and  yet  with  a  very  dignified  courtesy,  as 
though  he  were  endeavoring  to  tacitly  reassure 

her  of  his  thorough  harmlessness. 

40 


MERE  MAN 

Presently  his  hand  struck  the  trinket,  and  he 
stood  up  abruptly  holding  it  behind  him. 

"  Those  pebbles  run  into  a  fellow's  knees  like 
fun,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  shan't  be  able  to  say 
my  prayers  for  a  week.  Would  you  be  able  to 
identify  this  article?" 

"  Certainly.     It  is  nickel-plated." 

"  Yes.     Proceed." 

"  By  pressing  a  button  at  the  side  of  it,  it 
lights." 

He  fumbled  with  it,  and  suddenly  as  his 
finger  touched  the  proper  spot,  a  beam  of  white 
light  shot  across  the  roof. 

"  Your  description  is  astoundingly  exact,"  he 
said.  "  Without  a  doubt  the  jeweled  thing  is 
yours." 

He  handed  it  to  her. 

"  I  am  exceedingly  obliged,"  she  assured  him. 

He  bowed.  She  noticed  in  the  moonlight 
that  his  fingers  were  long  and  slender.  His 
hair  was  brown. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  naively,  "  you  are  the  man 
with  the  red  lamp-shade." 


MERE  MAN 

"  The  very  man,"  he  said.  "  I  have  inad- 
vertently forgotten  to  bring  it  with  me  to-night. 
But  it  is  fragile  and  apt  to  be  broken  climbing 
up  steep  ladders." 

She  smiled. 

"  The  man  with  the  red  shade,"  he  repeated. 
"  A  truly  romantic  soul.  How  did  you  know 
of  my  existence?"  he  asked,  abruptly. 

"  Last  night,"  she  confessed,  "  I  peeped  into 
your  room." 

He  laughed. 

"  From  that  spot  over  there,"  she  said,  point- 
ing, "  it  is  possible  to  see." 

"  By  all  means  let's  go  there  then,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  should  see  myself  as  others  see  me." 

He  looked  over  the  wall. 

"  An  absolute  blank  I "  he  cried.  "  Ah,  my- 
self ! "  he  observed,  apostrophizing  the  dark 
window.  "  I  have  discovered  you.  Nothing 
at  all ! " 

She  leaned  on  the  wall. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  about  yourself  ?  "  she 

asked,  curiously. 

42 


HE    LOOKED    OVER    THE   WALL 


MERE  MAN 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  affirmed,  stoutly. 

He  turned  his  back  on  his  room  and  thrust- 
ing his  hands  in  his  pockets,  leaned  with  his 
elbows  on  the  wall. 

"  In  considering  yourself,"  he  said,  with  a 
pleasant  air  of  thinking  aloud,  "  you  must  for- 
get that  you  have  a  sense  of  humor.  Of  course 
you  are  ridiculously  inadequate.  Everybody 
is.  But  take  yourself  seriously.  Have  confi- 
dence in  your  ability  to  accomplish  the  impos- 
sible." He  thumped  himself  on  the  chest. 
"  That's  the  way  I  give  myself  courage,"  he 
said,  thoughtfully. 

"  You  have  almost  the  air  of  an  orator,"  she 
murmured,  presently. 

He  smiled. 

"  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me." 

She  turned  away  from  the  wall. 

"  It  is  getting  late,  I  am  afraid,"  she  said. 

He  stood  beside  her. 

"May  I  escort  you  to  your — trap-door;  or 
shall  I  call  a  cab?" 

She  looked  about  her  thoughtfully. 
43 


MERE  MAN 

"  It's  such  a  fine  night,"  she  said.  "  Suppose 
we  walk." 

At  the  door  leading  down  to  the  depths  of 
her  own  house  she  paused. 

"You  were  speaking  of  speeches,"  she  ob- 
served. "  Would  you  make  a  speech  ?  If  you 
were  I?" 

"  Right  now.  Of  course.  Stand  on  the  closed 
trap-door,  and  I  will  sit  cross-legged  before  you." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  At  some  fu- 
ture date.  A  public  speech." 

"  If  I  wanted  to." 

"  But  I  shouldn't  know  how." 

He  looked  at  her  quizzically. 

"  The  old  manner  is  best,"  he  exclaimed. 
"Hair  brushed  abruptly  back  from  the  fore- 
head— as  in  the  portraits  of  Webster.  The  left 
hand  should  be  thrust  under  the  skirts  of  the 
coat — do  women  wear  coats  in  making 
speeches?  Of  course  they  do.  The  right 
hand  toying  with  the  fob  of  one's  watch,  ex- 
cept when  gesticulating.  And  refer  to  the 
sanctity  of  the  hearth." 

44 


MERE  MAN 

"  You  are  not  serious,"  she  said. 

"No,"  he  replied,  instantly  grave.  "I  am 
not.  About  the  speech,  you  are  the  only  one 
who  can  tell." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said,  "  and  thank  you." 

He  bowed  over  her  hand. 

"  You  must  let  me  light  you  down  the  first 
stage  of  your  journey,"  he  observed,  taking  her 
light  and  illuminating  the  ladder  to  the  attic. 

She  permitted  him  to  do  this.  She  reached 
up  for  the  light,  smiling. 

"  Now  please  run.  You  must  not  view  this 
next  contortion." 

"  I  run,"  he  said. 


45 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  first  cold  days  of  October  had  come. 
Football  colors  decked  the  town.  The 
white  and  yellow  badges  of  the  Suffragists  ap- 
peared here  and  there  on  the  streets.  Speech- 
making  for  "  The  Cause "  had  begun  on  the 
broad  avenue  that  connects  the  White  House 
with  the  Capitol,  or,  more  correctly,  that  sep- 
arates the  two.  Deborah  Carver  was  ap- 
proached seriously  for  this  purpose. 

"You  must,"  announced  Mrs.  Dobson, 
"really  you  must.  It  is  your  duty.  Good 
looks  hold  attention.  We  need  you." 

She  threw  down  the  telephone  book  she  was 
consulting,  and,  seized  with  a  galvanic  impulse, 
strode  across  the  room  and  caught  the  girl  by 
the  lapels  of  her  coat. 

"  I'll  hold  you  right  here,"  she  said,  "  until 
you  say  yes." 

Deborah  looked  at  the  whirlwind  lady.     In 
46 


MERE  MAN 

spite  of  the  terror  in  her  heart  a  disturbing  ex- 
citement seized  her. 

"  But  what  could  I  talk  about  ?  "  she  asked, 
breathlessly. 

"  About  the  eternal  stars,  if  you  like.  Only 
talk." 

"  But  I  must  say  something." 

The  old  lady  released  her  and  darted  over  to 
her  chair,  perching  momentarily  on  the  edge  of  it. 

"Talk  of  this  iniquitous  Lea,"  she  cried. 
"  Speak  of  these  fat,  waddling  congressmen, 
with  moist  hands  and  moist  collars  and  celluloid 
cuffs." 

There  was  no  inspiration  in  this. 

"  Is  that  the  sort  of  person  he  is  ?  "  she  asked, 
dully. 

"  Aren't  they  all  that  way — all  those  that  op- 
pose us,  I  mean?"  she  added,  smiling.  She 
pulled  down  her  gold-rimmed  spectacles  from 
the  place  where  they  rested  against  her  gray- 
black  hair. 

"  Listen  I  "  she  cried,  taking  a  book  from  the 
shelf  behind  her.  "Saturday  the  twelfth,  six 

47 


MERE  MAN 

thirty  o'clock.  What  could  be  fairer  ?  "  She 
wrote  a  hasty  scrawl  on  the  book.  "  See  Mrs. 
Devine.  She  arranges  these  things." 

Deborah  drew  in  her  breath  sharply,  as 
though  she  had  plunged  into  cold  water.  But 
an  enthusiasm,  a  realization  of  new  responsi- 
bility, and  a  youthful  appreciation  of  action 
brought  a  flush  to  her  face. 

"  I'm  game  1 "  she  said,  steadily.  "  I  sup- 
pose no  one  likes  to  make  these  speeches." 

Mrs.  Dobson  reached  for  her  telephone  and 
gave  a  number. 

41  Like  it !  "  she  cried.  "  They  hate  it.  They 
do  it  because  they  think  it  is  their  duty. 
They're  martyrs,  bless  their  souls!  Mrs. 
Devine,"  she  said  on  the  telephone,  "  Deborah 
Carver  will  speak  at  one  of  your  street  corner 
meetings  next  Saturday." 

And  thus  was  her  doom  sealed. 

"  Mrs.  Devine  is  a  feather-head,"  volunteered 
Mrs.  Dobson,  "  but  she  has  a  large  automobile 
and  infinite  leisure.  She  is  the  most  valuable 

bit  of  machinery  of  my  office." 

48 


MERE  MAN 

Deborah  dated  her  life,  following  this  inter- 
view, up  to  Saturday  the  twelfth  of  October. 
There  was  no  beyond.  Sunday  morning  had 
that  same  dim,  shadowy  inconsequence  to  her 
that  it  would  have  had  if  on  Saturday  night 
she  were  going  to  be  merely  hanged  instead  of 
to  make  the  street  corner  speech. 

Saturday  at  noon,  Mrs.  Devine  sent  Robert, 
her  chauffeur,  in  the  machine  for  Deborah,  to 
bring  her  to  lunch.  Mrs.  Devine  was  not  there 
when  she  arrived,  but  the  maid  said  she  would 
return  shortly.  She  sat  in  the  library  playing 
with  the  little  Pomeranian  and  wishing  it  were 
midnight  and  the  day  were  over.  In  spite  of 
the  fact  that  the  fire  of  battle  was  in  her,  she 
could  not  help  shrinking  from  this  un- 
known conflict.  She  knew  exactly  the  ideas 
she  would  talk  about,  and  she  knew  that  she 
could  have  made  her  speech  very  readily  to  an 
audience  of  quiet  people  in  that  library  where 
she  sat.  But  what  sort  of  people  were  these  to 
be  to  whom  she  was  to  speak  ? 

Mrs.  Devine  rustled  in. 
49 


MERE  MAN 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  not  that  solemn  expression. 
Be  blithe,  be  blithe !  See  the  spirit  of  Chris- 
tobel  here.  Christobel,  do  you  believe  in 
Woman's  Suffrage  ?  " 

Christobel  crawled  under  a  table. 

"  Christobel  1  At  once !  Attend  to  me ! 
Do  you  believe  in  Woman's  Suffrage  ?  " 

The  dog,  seeing  the  futility  of  it,  emerged, 
stood  up  on  his  hind  feet,  waved  the  front  ones 
in  the  air  and  barked  vigorously. 

"  See,"  exclaimed  his  mistress,  "  how  the 
movement  has  spread." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  be  a  suffragist, 
Mrs.  Devine?"  Deborah  asked,  feeling  she 
must  say  something. 

"First  I  started  taking  cold  baths  and  then 
I  got  to  sleeping  out-of-doors,  and  after  that  I 
just  naturally  drifted  into  the  other.  Come  out 
to  lunch,  won't  you  ? 

"  You  see,"  she  pattered  on,  "all  these  things 
are  the  things  women  are  doing  now.  I  want 
to  be  modern.  This  idea  of  the  woman's  intel- 
lect being  equal  to  the  man's  appeals  to  me. 

50 


MERE  MAN 

I  have  gone  so  far  now  that  I  don't  grant  man 
— or  masculinity — superiority  in  anything.  I 
feel  that  my  mind  is  the  equal  of  any  one's. 
Don't  you  feel  that  way  ?  " 

"Oh,  I 1"  exclaimed  Deborah,  with  a 

start.  "  I  have  always  thought  that.  I  have 
never  believed  any  one  was  wiser  or  more  re- 
sourceful than  I.  That  is  a  sin  of  mine." 

"  Really !  Now  I  don't  go  so  far  as  that — 
at  all.  When  a  sturdy,  strong-willed  person 
like  Mrs.  Dobson  tells  me  to  do  a  thing,  I  just 
do  it.  I  could  never  struggle  against  her." 

"Yes,"  said  Deborah,  politely.  "When  I 
find  a  man — a  person,  I  mean — who  makes  me 
feel  like  that,"  she  added  presently,  "  I  shall 
have  come  to  an  epoch  in  my  life." 

At  six  o'clock  the  lighted  streets  were  crowded 
with  people.  There  had  been  a  football  game, 
and  victorious  students  surged  along  the  side- 
walks. Saturday  night  crowds  with  money  in 
their  purses  mingled  with  them.  As  Mrs. 
Devine's  automobile,  with  four  ardent  suffra- 
gists— and  Deborah — sped  along  the  street, 


MERE  MAN 

Deborah  steeled  her  heart.  She  was  not 
ardent.  She  was  determined.  She  sat  back 
in  the  corner  of  her  seat,  her  hands  folded  in 
her  lap,  and  watched  with  a  faint  smile  the 
carnival  concourse  of  people.  Presently  she 
raised  two  fingers  and  touched  the  velvet  rim 
of  her  hat. 

"  What  was  that  for?  "  asked  Mrs.  Devine. 

"  Morituri  salutamus,"  murmured  Deborah. 

"  That's  Latin,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Every  word  of  it.  It  means  '  In  God  we 
trust.'  " 

An  iron-jawed  woman  sitting  by  her,  who 
was  also  to  make  a  speech,  raised  herself  from 
her  apathy. 

"No  need  for  the  gladiatorial  spirit,"  she 
said,  without  expression.  "  Just  talk.  The  one 
rule  to  be  remembered  in  a  street  corner 
speech  is — don't  look  at  any  particular  in- 
dividual. Talk  to  the  lamp-post  behind  the 
crowd." 

Deborah  remembered  this  when  they  set  her 
down  on  the  sidewalk.  Mrs.  Devine's  scheme 

52 


MERE  MAN 

was  to  have  three,  or  perhaps  four  meetings,  a 
block  apart,  all  occurring  at  once.  The  idea  of 
the  whole  performance  was  first  of  all  to  attract 
attention.  Mrs.  Dobson's  strategy  was  not  so 
much  to  convince  people  by  the  force  of  the 
arguments  of  her  speakers,  as  to  advertise  the 
movement,  to  let  the  public  know  there  was 
activity.  Therefore  she  had  said  to  Deborah, 
"Just  talk." 

Deborah  was  left  at  a  street  corner — with  a 
supporter  bearing  an  explanatory  banner — in 
the  midst  of  a  strenuous  jostling  crowd.  The 
machine  had  been  standing  by  the  curb  for  fully 
five  minutes  before  she  alighted,  and  she  had 
sat  calmly  in  her  seat  as  though  she  were  not 
at  all  a  part  of  the  thing  that  was  to  come.  A 
great  phalanx  of  students,  flushed  with  victory, 
had  paused  at  the  brink  of  the  fountain  in  the 
parking,  disgorged  from  its  midst  two  freshmen 
of  their  beloved  alma  mater  and  driven  them, 
trembling  but  elated  at  the  distinction  accorded 
them,  across  the  shallow  water  of  the  basin. 
The  crowd  of  citizens  gathered  about  had 

53 


MERE  MAN 

laughed  indulgently  at  this  sacrifice  to  the 
goddess  of  good  fortune.  When  the  freshmen, 
grown  twelve  months  in  importance,  had  stepped 
out  of  the  water  and  the  phalanx,  thirsting  for 
something  bizarre  enough  to  satisfy  its  jaded 
appetite,  had  swept  by,  but  while  the  crowd 
still  remained,  the  iron-jawed  woman  had  thrown 
open  the  door. 

"  This  is  the  psychological  moment,"  she 
said. 

Deborah  nodded.  When  the  door  of  the 
automobile  swung  shut  again,  it  might  have 
been  the  iron  clang  of  the  gate  shutting  her  in 
the  lion's  den.  But  she  had  now  a  Daniel's 
self-possession.  When  the  machine  drove  off 
she  did  not  regret  it.  The  joy  of  action  was 
upon  her.  She  stood  up  on  her  box  and  cried, 
with  just  the  ease  and  egotism  the  situation 
needed : 

"  Look  at  me  ! " 

And  they  all  looked.  She  had  absolute  con- 
fidence in  the  power  of  her  own  personality ; 
and  in  the  second  of  silence  that  followed  those 

54 


MERE  MAN 

three  words,  she  caught  their  attention  and  held 
it  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand.  Their  curiosity 
was  aroused.  Their  interest  in  the  trim  girl 
standing  there — a  picturesque,  slender  goddess, 
her  hands  held  to  her  sides,  her  chin  tilted 
upward — made  them  wait  to  hear  what  she 
would  say.  She  was  keen  enough  to  see  then 
that  the  starting  point  of  her  speech  must  be 
the  idea  that  was  already  in  their  minds,  and 
when  she  spoke  she  spoke  of  the  freshmen  who 
had  just  been  made  to  walk  through  the  basin 
of  the  fountain.  Her  voice  carried  across  the 
crowd.  She  spoke  in  short  sentences.  Once 
she  made  them  laugh.  Then  she  deftly  drew 
a  parallel  between  the  students  forced  to  wade 
in  the  fountain  against  their  will  while  the  world 
looked  on  and  approved,  and  woman  wading 
in  the  muddy  waters  of  Inferiority.  It  was  a 
crude  metaphor,  hastily  thrown  together,  but 
admirably  suited  for  this  open-air  gathering, 
where  ideas  had  to  be  delivered  in  bulk. 

She    felt    she   was    making  an   impression. 
Here  and  there  she  was  conscious  of  eyes  look- 

55 


MERE  MAN 

ing  intently  upon  her.  Near  by,  on  her  left,  was 
some  one  who  seemed  to  have  jostled  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  whose  eyes  she  felt  did  not 
leave  her  ;  but,  following  the  warning  of  the  iron- 
jawed  woman,  she  looked  at  no  one.  Her 
speech  would  have  been  a  tremendous  success 
had  it  not  happened  that,  at  the  very  climax  of 
it,  the  phalanx  of  students,  roaring  like  an  angry 
Roman  mob,  returned  and  burst,  a  human 
battering-ram,  through  the  midst  of  the  crowd. 
Like  Sherman  marching  to  the  sea,  it  divided 
the  audience  in  twain  ;  and  so  great  was  its 
cry,  it  was  impossible  to  be  heard  above  it. 
These  youthful  enthusiasts,  the  freedom  of  the 
city  theirs,  all  their  dynamic  enthusiasm  let 
loose,  hysterical  with  excitement,  searching 
only  for  some  excess  more  absurd  and  unreal 
than  the  last,  spread  everywhere  like  an  ominous 
horde  of  Goths. 

Then  they  saw  Deborah  on  her  box. 

Theirs  not  to  reason  why!  Theirs  not  to 
weigh  the  situation  delicately,  to  consider  the 
question  of  courtesy  and  sanity  and  advisability. 

56 


MERE  MAN 

Theirs  not  even  to  imagine  what  they  might 
have  done  in  a  less  hysterical  moment. 

"  To  the  fountain  with  the  Suffragettes  ! " 

To  the  lions  with  the  Christians  !  The  Roman 
mob  has  tasted  blood.  Nothing  will  stop  them. 
The  phalanx  turns  its  head.  The  crowd  is 
thrust  apart  and  down  the  lane  sweeps  the  mob 
of  avenging  spirits,  crazy  for  sacrifice.  There 
is  the  fountain,  and  there  are  Deborah  and  her 
standard-bearer.  The  standard-bearer,  pale  as 
a  ghost,  pulls  her  sleeve. 

"  Come  away  !  "  she  cries. 

But  Deborah  continues  to  talk  over  the  heads 
of  chaos.  No  word  of  hers  is  audible.  She  is 
outwardly  calm,  but  within  is  a  great  tumult  of 
excitement.  Her  mind  is  working  quickly. 
She  scarcely  gives  a  thought  to  her  words. 
The  riot  is  upon  her.  For  the  first  time  she 
glances  down  at  the  faces  before  her.  A  man 
in  her  audience  has  stepped  to  her  side,  but 
she  does  not  need  his  help. 

The  onslaught  is  led  by  a  great  flaxen-haired 
boy,  huge  in  his  college  sweater,  with  mischief 

57 


MERE  MAN 

in  his  eyes.  As  he  reaches  the  pavement  before 
her  box,  she  bursts  into  a  radiant  smile,  and 
holds  out  her  hand. 

"  Who,"  she  cried,  "  would  have  thought  of 
seeing  you  here  ?  " 

Certainly  not  Deborah,  who  had  never  seen 
him  at  all  before.  The  boy  stopped  astounded. 
He  could  not  remember  that  face,  but  he  was 
confused  and  rattled  and  suddenly  ashamed. 
The  color  mounted  his  cheeks.  He  stood  there 
backing  up  the  crowd  behind  him,  and  took  her 
hand. 

"  We  came,"  he  said,  sheepishly,  not  know- 
ing at  all  what  to  say,  "to  congratulate 
you." 

She  smiled,  and  then  the  crowd,  its  inertia 
gone,  its  interest  fading,  began  to  flow  in  an- 
other direction. 

(i  Bravo ! "  cried  the  voice  of  the  man  who 
was  standing  beside  her.  "  Back  with  your 
heathen  horde,  Ethelwolfe.  She  beat  you  to  it 
that  time." 

The  boy  smiled,  with  a  diverting  mixture  of 
58 


MERE  MAN 

shamefacedness  and  interest,  and  was  presently 
lost  in  the  crowd. 

Mrs.  Devine's  automobile  rolled  up  to  the 
curb.  The  standard-bearer  clambered  in.  Deb- 
orah looked  curiously  at  the  man  who  had 
spoken.  It  was  her  young  man  of  the  roof ! 

"  Don't  go  in  that  machine,"  he  said.  "  Come 
with  me." 

She  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Hurry,  please,  Miss  Carver,"  said  Mrs.  De- 
vine,  grown  suddenly  nervous. 

A  great  turning  of  the  crowd  swept  Deborah 
away.  Mrs.  Devine  saw  the  young  man  seize 
her  and  shoulder  a  way  through  it.  When  the 
girl  stood  still  once  more  the  machine  was  gone. 


59 


CHAPTER  VI 

my  word,"  said  her  young  man  of 
the  roof,  "  this  is  a  wild  night.  One 
thousand  congratulations,"  he  went  on,  "  for 
your  strategy.  It  was  Napoleonic." 

She  laughed. 

"  It  was  necessary,"  she  replied. 

He  looked  for  the  automobile. 

"  Gone  ! "  she  said. 

He  smiled. 

"  Marooned,  are  you  ?  Let's  strike  out  for 
the  mainland,  then.  I  see  a  bright  light  ahead." 

They  started  out  along  the  sidewalk,  now  less 
densely  crowded. 

"  I  am  in  a  delicate  position,"  he  observed. 
"  You  refuse  to  accompany  me,  and  then  your 
friends  thrust  you  defenseless  upon  me.  I  am 
a  monstrous  ogre  carrying  you  off." 

"  I  could  take  a  street  car,"  she  assured  him, 
placidly. 

"  Always  resourceful.    So  you  could.     I  am 
60 


MERE  MAN 

reassured.  If  I  find  you  dashing  off  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  sentence,  I  shall  know  that  you  have 
taken  a  street  car." 

"  Where  are  we  going,  anyway  ?  "  she  asked. 
"Are  you  taking  me  home?  " 

He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Seven  o'clock,"  he  said.  "  Who  ever  heard 
of  going  home  at  seven  o'clock  !  " 

"  What  then  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  must  ask  you  an  intimate  and  highly  per- 
sonal question  first,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  warily. 

"  Go  on,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  Have  you  had  your  dinner  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No." 

"  If  I  should  propose  to  you  that  we  stop  at 
this  twelve  story  wayside  inn,  and  call  roundly 
for  our  suppers,  would  you  inform  me  that  you 
did  not  know  me  well  enough,  or  would  you  in- 
sist on  my  procuring  from  the  thin  air  a  dull, 
toothless  chaperon  ?  " 

"  Neither,"  she  replied,  with  bewildering  di- 
rectness. "  I  should  say  '  yes,'  quickly." 

61 


MERE  MAN 

His  face  brightened,  and  presently  they  en- 
tered the  inn,  ablaze  with  lights  and  people. 

"  As  a  suffragist  and  a  feminist  and  all  those 
iniquitous  things,"  she  explained,  when  they 
were  seated  at  a  table  and  he  was  glancing  at 
the  card  with  the  air  of  a  poet  about  to  com- 
pose a  sonnet,  "  I  am  supposed  to  take  care  of 
myself  without  the  aid  of  a  chaperon.  Haven't 
you  heard  that  woman  is  the  intellectual  equal 
of  man  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  knew  it  had  been  so  decided.  Tell 
me,"  he  added  when  he  had  arranged  the 
various  formalities  that  would  assure  them  of 
their  dinner,  "  how  did  they  get  you  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  asked,  amused. 

"  You  are  that  unusual  type  of  woman  who 
possesses  femininity.  People  would  have 
recognized  you  for  a  woman  in  eighteen 
forty." 

She  put  her  elbows  on  the  table. 

"You  are  delicious,"  she  said.  "It  isn't 
only  the  masculine  woman  that  is  backing  the 

equal  suffrage  movement." 

62 


MERE  MAN 

He  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  The  whole  thing  is  upside  down,"  he  as- 
serted. "  Here  is  a  multitude  of  women — and 
men — who  bring  forth  the  doctrine  that  woman 
is  indistinguishable  from  man  and  possessed  of 
all  masculine  attributes — and  call  their  propa- 
ganda the  feminist  movement  It  is  the  non- 
feminist  movement.  They  say  no  such  thing 
as  woman  exists." 

"  I  feel  somehow,"  she  said,  pleasantly,  "  that 
you  do  not  sympathize  with  women  in  their 
crusade." 

"  Sympathize  with  them  I  My  heart  goes 
out  to  them.  I  pray  for  them  with  tears  in  my 
eyes." 

She  laughed  and  then  grew  suddenly  serious. 

"  Why  shouldn't  women  have  the  ballot  ?  " 

He  waved  his  hand. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  interesting  to  hear  me  rehash 
all  that." 

"  Certainly  it  would.  Take  this  theorem. 
If  women  are  intellectually  the  equals  of  men, 
why  shouldn't  they  vote  ?  " 

63 


MERE  MAN 

"  But,  my  dear  woman,  what  has  intellectu- 
ality to  do  with  the  ballot  ?  The  ballot  is  a 
thing  of  brawn — not  brain.  It  has  been  passed 
up,  so  to  speak,  by  women  during  the  years 
because  it  is  symbolic  of  brawling  man.  It 
isn't  a  man's  intellect  that  makes  us  respect  his 
vote.  It's  his  biceps." 

"  I  don't  think  I  understand." 

He  gazed  at  her  thoughtfully. 

"  This  is  an  age,"  he  said,  "  of  substitutes. 
When  I  buy  a  city  house  for  one  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars — this  is  all  pure  fable,  of  course — 
I  don't  pay  for  it  in  gold  florins.  I  give  a 
check — a  check  absolutely  worthless  except  for 
what  it  represents.  Well.  In  the  olden  days 
when  there  was  a  ruler  to  be  chosen,  each  side 
got  together  its  voters  and  provided  them  with 
spears  in  place  of  ballots.  Sometimes  a  wise 
head  would  win  with  a  minority  by  means  of 
strategy — just  as  at  the  polls  to-day.  But  in 
general  the  majority  prevailed,  after  their  op- 
ponents had  sampled  the  quality  of  their  spears. 
In  our  wise  civilization,  the  piece  of  paper  called 

64 


MERE  MAN 

the  ballot  simply  represents  a  man  with  a  spear 
— or  a  Winchester  rifle,  as  the  case  may  be.  It 
does  not  represent  intellect." 

She  looked  at  him  keenly,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  One  thing  which  most  people  fail  to  con- 
sider," he  went  on,  "  is  the  fact  that  had  it  not 
been  for  the  efforts  and  the  finer  feelings  of 
men,  the  propaganda  of  equal  suffrage  would 
not  even  have  been  possible.  Our  civilization 
accords  woman  a  consideration,  which  the 
strength  God  gave  her  would  be  powerless  to 
exact.  There  was  no  such  civilization  three  or 
four  centuries  ago.  In  those  days  a  man  would 
stretch  a  lady  on  the  rack  with  the  same  care- 
free spirit  with  which  he  now  rises  to  give  her 
his  seat  on  the  street  car.  Those  were  times  of 
absolute  equality  of  the  sexes,  when  she  must 
expect  to  be  treated  just  as  if  she  were  a  man. 
Imagine  her  then  chaining  herself  to  a  seat  in 
Parliament  and  screaming  at  the  speakers,  or 
conducting  a  hunger  strike.  The  militant  suf- 
fragist is  a  person  who  seeks  to  defeat  man  by 
virtue  of  his  own  consideration  for  her.  She 

65 


MERE  MAN 

exists  as  a  result  of  the  civilization  he  has  per- 
fected. She  shouts  for  equality  of  the  sexes ; 
and  what  she  really  wants  is  a  little  more  in- 
equality. She  does  not  go  about  her  crusade 
frankly.  If  she  would  bend  her  energies  to 
proving  that  all  women,  or  most  women,  want 
the  ballot,  men — in  this  country  at  least — would 
undoubtedly  grant  it  to  her.  But  I  sometimes 
feel  that  in  her  heart  she  does  not  find  much 
excitement  in  having  it  merely  granted.  She 
wants  to  believe  that  she  forced  it." 

Her  eyes  had  not  left  his  face.     She  smiled. 

"  Is  that  last  an  argument,"  she  said,  "  against 
equal  suffrage?" 

He  spread  out  his  hands. 

"  I  forgot  myself,"  he  replied,  with  a  whim- 
sical smile.  "  It  is  useless  for  a  man — a  mere 
man — to  argue  on  the  subject  of  woman's  suf- 
frage. It  is  a  woman's  fight.  Her  greatest 
trouble  is  to  convince,  not  men,  but  her  fellow 
women." 

"  Are  you  a  mere  man  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It's    all    one   word,"   he  replied,   smiling. 
66 


MERE  MAN 

"  Man  is  simply  the  abbreviation — from  your 
point  of  view." 

While  her  companion  had  been  talking,  he 
had  looked  around  him,  and  spoken  to  several 
people  scattered  here  and  there  about  the  room. 
She  could  not  help  wondering  about  him.  He 
had  the  confident  bearing  of  a  man  who  accom- 
plished things.  The  people  who  spoke  to  him 
did  so  with  a  certain  amount  of  deference,  and 
she  imagined  afterward  that  they  were  talking 
about  him.  It  was  a  strange  thing  for  her  to  be 
dining  with  him  here  when  she  did  not  even 
know  his  name.  It  added  to  the  excitement  of 
it.  When  she  had  tried  to  fathom  him  a  little 
more  she  would  ask  him  about  himself  and  per- 
haps let  him  tell  her  his  name.  She  felt  satis- 
fied as  to  his  decency  of  feeling,  which  was 
credentials  enough  for  the  present.  As  to  the 
rest,  it  lent  interest  to  the  situation  to  have  a 
few  things  undetermined. 

"  Tell  me  something  about  yourself,  won't 
you  ?  "  he  asked,  as  if  in  evidence  that  he  had 
been  pursuing  a  counter  line  of  thought. 

67 


MERE  MAN 

She  laughed. 

"  In  the  words  of  the  women  who  write  to  the 
newspapers,"  she  said,  "  I  am  a  young  brunette 
of  an  earnest  disposition — except  that  in  my 
case  I  have  lost  the  bloom  of  youth." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  he  cried. 

She  nodded. 

"  I  am  twenty-six." 

"  Ah  me  !  "  he  sighed.  "  It  is  the  heyday  of 
youth." 

"  But,"  she  said,  "  I  have  accomplished  noth- 
ing. I  am  a  prim  old  maid  school-teacher." 

"  Few  of  us  really  accomplish  things.  Once 
in  a  decade  some  one  invents  a  sewing-machine 
or  a  telephone.  But  that  is  grand-stand  play. 
If  I  could  go  to  Heaven  with  a  certificate  stat- 
ing that  out  of  every  two  opportunities  to  help 
the  people  around  me  I  had  accepted  one,  I 
would  have  an  even  chance  with  the  sewing- 
machine  man  and  the  telephone  man." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  warm  kindliness  in 
her  eyes. 

"  If  you  are  a  school-teacher,"  he  said,  "  and 
68 


MERE  MAN 

every  day  put  one  fine  idea  into  a  small  mind, 
you  have  accomplished  a  wonderful  thing. 
Think  of  a  school-teacher  sighing  for  more 
worlds  to  conquer  I "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why, 
an  old  professor  of  mine,  living  along  now  on 
nothing  at  all  a  year,  as  he  always  has,  I  look  back 
upon  as  the  guiding  star  of  my  life.  He  was  in- 
spiration and  incentive  to  me.  And  his  reward 
in  life  was  to  realize  that  every  once  in  a  while 
he  succeeded  in  sending  a  man  out  into  the 
world." 

She  smiled  appreciatively. 

"  And,"  she  asked,  with  a  new-born  liking  for 
him,  "  were  you  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  You  must  not  catch  me  up  so  quickly,"  he 
replied.  "  I  try  very  hard  to  be  one  of  them. 
But  I  am  thirty-two — which  is  twice  as  old  as 
twenty-six — and  have  accomplished  very  little 
of  what  I  had  expected  to  accomplish.  So  I 
may  not  be  one  of  them." 

The  man  put  dishes  before  them,  and  they 
were  busy  for  a  while  with  the  aroma  and  the 
first  taste  of  much-desired  food. 

69 


MERE  MAN 

"  I  find  myself  groping  about,"  he  said,  at 
length,  "  for  something  to  call  you.  Have  you 
a  name  ?  "  he  asked,  laughing. 

"  Two,"  she  replied. 

"  What  is  the  proper  way  to  go  about  know- 
ing them,  I  wonder?  " 

"  You  have  adopted  it." 

She  told  him  then. 

"  Deborah  Carver,"  he  repeated.  "  I  think  I 
like  that  name." 

She  bowed  to  him.  A  tremendous  curiosity 
tugged  at  her.  She  wanted  to  know  his  name, 
yet  she  scarcely  wanted  to  ask  him  so  quickly 
on  the  heels  of  his  own  similar  question.  The 
mystery  of  him  entertained  her. 

But  presently  some  men  rose  and  passed  their 
table.  One  of  them,  a  round  jolly  man  with 
that  air  of  intimate  familiarity  with  all  the 
crowned  heads  of  Olympus  and  elsewhere,  that 
characterizes  your  newspaper  correspondent, 
stopped  by  their  table*  and  addressed  her  com- 
panion with  an  air  of  simply  wishing  to  say 

something  friendly. 

70 


MERE  MAN 

"  When  is  that  bill,"  he  said,  "  coming  out  of 
your  committee  ?  " 

There  was  a  silence  after  that  gentleman  had 
gone.  She  looked  at  him  with  a  renewed  in- 
terest. 

"  Are  you  in  Congress  ?  "  she  asked,  quietly. 

"  For  my  sins,"  he  said. 

"  And  which  one  are  you  ?  " 

"  Fifth  row,  third  from  the  aisle.  Name,  Lea. 
John  Marshall  Lea." 


CHAPTER  VII 

HE  looked  at  her  in  amusement,  quite  well 
aware  of  what  she  was  thinking. 

"  I  am  the  ogre,"  he  said,  smiling. 

She  hesitated.  She  had  the  unconvinced  air 
of  a  person  into  whose  mind  there  is  no  space 
to  fit  an  unexpected  fact.  The  fact  was  unex- 
pected and  unbelievable.  It  was  certainly  ridic- 
ulous for  her,  an  avowed  and  active  suffra- 
gist, to  dine  and  converse  pleasantly  with  this 
strenuous  opponent  of  woman's  suffrage. 

"  Of  course  it's  ridiculous,"  he  asserted,  when 
she  said  something  to  that  effect  presently. 
"  But  differences  of  opinion  are  very  unimpor- 
tant things.  My  opinion  on  this  question  is 
part  of  my  profession.  Yours  is  the  result  of 
philanthropic  impulse.  In  our  moments  of  re- 
laxation we  leave  those  things  behind  us. 
There  is  nothing  incongruous  in  your  dining 


MERE  MAN 

with  me  here  to-night,  and  then  throwing  a 
bomb  at  me  on  the  street  in  the  morning.  In 
fact,  it  would  show  that  you  did  the  thing  on 
principle  and  not  from  personal  motives." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  throwing  a  bomb  at 
you,"  she  said.  "  The  trouble  is  if  I  am  seen 
making  a  suffrage  speech  in  the  afternoon,  and 
then  trailing  around  in  the  most  comfortable 
way  in  the  world  with  you  in  the  evening,  it 
will  cause  comment." 

"  True  enough,"  he  cried ;  "  we  must  hurry  to 
shelter  before  that  newspaper  man  returns  and 
takes  a  flash-light  picture  of  us." 

They  rose  from  the  table. 

"  I  see  that  the  only  way  for  me  to  enjoy  a 
little  of  your  society,"  he  said,  later,  as  they 
approached  the  house  where  she  lived,  "  is  to 
dash  up  in  a  cab,  thrust  you  in  it  and  hustle 
you  off  to  dinner  against  your  will.  Then  no 
one  could  doubt  your  sincerity." 

"  In  that  case,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  the  rules 
require  a  hunger  and  thirst  strike." 

"  You  give  me  no  chance." 
73 


MERE  MAN 

"  Unless,"  she  observed,  mischievously,  "  you 
change  your  opinions." 

"  A  bribe !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Madam,"  he 
went  on,  thrusting  his  hand  into  the  breast  of 
his  coat,  "  all  congressmen  are  incorruptible. 
If  you  don't  believe  it,  read  the  '  Congressional 
Record.' " 

She  laughed. 

"  Then  good-bye,"  she  said,  holding  out  her 
hand. 

"  Good-bye.  You  know,"  he  added,  thought- 
fully, "  there  is  a  great  deal  of  very  fine  ozone 
to  be  breathed  on  the  housetops  nowadays." 

She  gazed  at  him  understandingly. 

"  But  it  is  growing  too  cold,"  she  said,  her 
lips  firmly  set. 

He  looked  at  her  keenly,  and  then  taking  off 
his  hat,  bowed  pleasantly,  and  walked  down 
the  street.  She  did  not  look  after  him,  but  went 
immediately  into  the  house. 

This  gentleman  was  an  ideal  person  to  let 
alone.  He  possessed  almost  every  characteris- 
tic to  render  him  objectionable.  He  opposed  the 

74 


MERE  MAN 

crusade  to  which  she  had  resolutely  decided  to 
devote  her  life  ;  and  she  could  not  run  with  the 
hare  and  hunt  with  the  hounds.  Moreover,  he 
was  entertaining  and  companionable  and  con- 
genial, which  barred  him  entirely  from  her 
sight.  Those  were  faults  in  a  man  which  she — 
nun  that  she  was ! — could  not  overlook.  She 
had  nothing  to  do  now  with  men  that  appealed 
to  her  and  interested  her.  All  that  was  behind 
her.  She  smiled  as  she  glanced  at  her  reflec- 
tion in  the  hallway  mirror.  She  was  a  martyr. 
Like  old  Saint  Simeon  Stylites,  she  sat  forever 
on  the  top  of  a  high  column  and  watched  the 
world  of  men  pass  by  beneath  her.  They  were 
not  for  her.  There  was  no  love  and  marriage 
on  the  top  of  the  column ;  nothing  but  the 
storm  and  sleet  of  continued  spinsterhood.  The 
whole  situation  was  indeed  grotesquely  im- 
probable. 

But  she  had  joined  in  a  serious  movement 
with  serious-minded  women,  and  she  must  carry 
out  her  part.  As  a  famous  suffrage  speaker  had 
said,  the  beginnings  of  all  great  reforms  were 

75 


MERE  MAN 

ludicrous  and  excited  the  ridicule  of  the  world. 
Mr.  Lea  himself  had  told  her  that  she  must  not 
view  her  own  ambitions  with  a  sense  of  humor, 
for  that  destroyed  the  essential  element  of  confi- 
dence. She  looked  at  her  trim,  well-dressed 
figure  in  the  glass. 

"  You  don't  look  like  a  martyr,  my  dear,"  she 
said,  "  but  I  think  you  had  best  continue  to  be 
one." 

She  stumbled  up  the  dark  staircase.  The  gas 
lights  in  the  hall  above  burned  like  pin  points. 
Miss  Howell  met  her  in  the  third  floor  hall. 

"  Deborah,"  she  exclaimed,  in  an  elaborate 
stage  whisper  that  could  be  heard  all  over  the 
house,  "  Mrs.  Dobson  has  been  here  nearly  an 
hour  waiting  for  you.  She  is  almost  wild.  I 
never  saw  such  a  fidgety  woman.  She  paces 
the  room  like  a  lioness." 

"Surplus  energy,"  the  other  commented. 

"  Where  is  that  girl  ?  "  cried  a  voice  suddenly. 
Mrs.  Dobson  burst  out  of  their  room,  and  to 
Deborah's  immeasurable  astonishment  and  con- 
fusion, kissed  her  right  on  the  mouth. 

76 


MERE  MAN 

"  Come  in  and  sit  down,"  she  said,  when  she 
had  recovered. 

"  I  hope  I  never  have  to  sit  down  again,"  the 
lady  ejaculated.  "I  sat  in  that  chair  twelve 
months  waiting  for  you  to-night." 

"  Sorry  I  was  so  late,"  the  girl  replied,  peni- 
tently. 

"  Never  mind.  I  would  have  waited  two 
hours  more.  I  made  up  my  mind  I  was  not 
going  to  leave  this  room  until  I  had  told  you 
how  splendid  you  were.  I  heard  all  about  your 
speech  and  the  way  you  put  the  college  boys  to 
rout.  You  have  real  resourcefulness.  I  need 
you.  I  admire  you.  I  adore  you." 

Deborah  blushed  rose-red. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Dobson,"  she  protested. 

Mrs.  Dobson  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed 
for  a  moment  and  then  bounced  excitedly  to  her 
feet  again. 

"  I  mean  every  word  of  it,  and  I  want  you  to 
help  us  in  our  hearings  before  the  Congressional 
Committee.  You  can  help  us." 

"  But,"  Deborah  exclaimed,  awed  by  this  new 
77 


MERE  MAN 

responsibility,    "I   should   make  a  very   poor 
witness." 

"  Why  ?  "  shot  out  the  visitor. 

"  I  haven't  the  poise,  the  sangfroid" 

"  Bosh ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dobson.  She 
reached  for  her  umbrella. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  think  it  over.  I  will  not 
rest  until  I  get  you.  But  the  hearings  are  a 
month  off.  I  simply  wanted  to  let  you  know 
to-night  that  you  are  a  doomed  woman." 

She  started  toward  the  door,  and  then  coming 
back  looked  at  Deborah  searchingly. 

"  Has  anything  happened  to  make  you  regret 
that  you  signed  that  paper? " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  "  the  girl  demanded,  sur- 
prised. 

"  I  have  an  intuition  about  things  sometimes," 
she  responded.  "  If  you  have  changed  your 
mind,  I  can  have  the  pledge  you  took  re- 
scinded." 

Astonishment  was  in  Deborah's  eyes. 

"  I  am  sure  I  have  no  such  desire,"  she  as- 
serted. 

78 


MERE  MAN 

"  Good  1  Then  think  over  what  I  asked  you 
to  do." 

She  presently  departed,  a  majestic  figure. 
Her  skirt  rode  at  an  angle  with  the  floor.  Wisps 
of  her  hair,  unrestrained,  blew  about  her  uncom- 
fortably, so  that  you  wanted  to  take  affairs  in 
your  own  hands  and  put  them  in  place.  But 
in  her  bright  eyes,  shining  through  the  gold- 
bowed  spectacles,  was  the  light  of  determina- 
tion. And  when  that  foot,  clad  in  its  square- 
toed,  common-sense  shoe,  planted  itself  firmly, 
it  had  the  immovable  air  of  a  house  builded  on 
a  rock. 

"Of  course  she's  efficient,"  Deborah  ex- 
claimed. "  She  has  one  idea,  and  she  drives  at 
that.  All  her  impulses  are  masculine.  Imagine 
her  in  a  home  superintending  the  dusting  and 
cleaning  of  woodwork,  and  the  preparation  of 
hash  from  yesterday's  beefsteak.  She  couldn't 
exist." 

"  I  think  she  is  a  tremendous  argument  in 
favor  of  woman  suffrage.  Women  like  that 
ought  to  have  an  interest  in  public  affairs." 

79 


MERE  MAN 

"  If  all  women  were  like  that  there  wouldn't 
be  any  need  of  argument.  They  would  march 
up  to  the  Capitol  and  run  every  one  out  of  it. 
But  they  aren't  all  like  that" 

"  Sometimes  I  hardly  know  whether  you  favor 
woman's  suffrage  or  not,  Deborah." 

Deborah  laughed  softly. 

"I  am  always  a  woman,"  she  said,  enig- 
matically. 


80 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ONE  day  two  or  three  weeks  later,  Deborah 
walked  into  the  Capitol.  It  was  a  very  un- 
residential  thing  to  do.  She  had  not  been  within 
those  walls  for  many  a  day.  She  had  passed  by 
its  glorious  dome  daily,  and  given  but  little 
thought  to  what  happened  beneath  it,  except  to 
note  that  of  late  years  Congress  sat  there  almost 
continually.  The  long  session  dragged  on  until 
it  merged  into  the  short  session  ;  and  in  the  nine 
months  when  there  should  have  been  a  recess 
for  the  welfare  of  the  country,  they  sat  in  special 
session  until  it  was  time  to  convene  again. 

To-day  some  impulse  led  her  up  the  broad 
steps  and  into  the  rotunda.  The  place  was 
filled  with  tourists  trotting  amiably  in  compact 
masses  after  their  respective  guides.  She  did 
not  know  why  she  came.  She  was  like  the 

girl  in  the  fairy-story  who  followed  an  invisible 

81 


MERE  MAN 

thread  in  her  hand,  which  led  her  on  to  un- 
known places.  The  thread  that  led  Deborah 
was  invisible  and  intangible,  but  it  had  a  tract- 
ive power.  It  led  on  through  that  circular 
storehouse  for  statues,  by  the  busy  telegraph 
desks,  by  the  doorkeeper  at  his  post,  keeping 
all  but  the  elect  from  the  sacred  floor  beyond, 
up  marble  stairs,  paused  to  allow  a  diplomatic 
exchange  of  conversation  with  another  door- 
keeper, and  terminated  finally  in  a  secluded 
spot  in  the  corner  of  the  Members'  Gallery.  No 
one  could  have  been  more  surprised  in  the  end 
than  was  Deborah  herself. 

Under  that  dome  is  a  diverting  show.  The 
Speaker  pounds  the  wooden  top  of  his  marble 
desk,  until  the  place  resounds  like  a  carpen- 
ter shop.  Conversation  continues.  Gentlemen 
make  speeches — some  audible,  some  inaudible. 
The  chosen  representatives  of  a  great  people 
lose  their  tempers  and  invite  each  other  out- 
side, pugilistic  encounters  not  being  furnished 
on  the  floor  of  the  House  for  the  entertainment 

of  the   galleries.     A  lull.     A  man   rises,   and 

82 


MERE  MAN 

before  you  know  it,  he  has  launched  into  a 
real  speech  which  ends  in  a  flurry  of  applause. 
In  the  morning  the  newspapers  will  repeat  it, 
and  perhaps  fifty  years  from  now  your  grand- 
children may  read  a  sentence  or  two  of  it  in 
their  histories. 

When  Deborah  entered  the  gallery,  the  floor 
of  the  House  sounded  like  the  drone  of  the 
mob  in  Julius  Caesar,  A  gentleman  was  mak- 
ing a  speech  in  a  confidential  tone  to  the  offi- 
cial stenographer,  who  sat  in  the  seat  directly 
in  front  of  him  driving  his  pencil  earnestly 
across  his  paper.  The  House  buzzed  with  con- 
versation. But  the  man  on  the  floor  was  not 
talking  to  them;  he  was  addressing  his  con- 
stituents through  the  medium  of  the  "  Congres- 
sional Record."  The  Speaker  listened  in  a  state 
of  coma.  Deborah's  eyes  wandered  over  the 
chamber.  At  length  they  stopped  and  fixed 
themselves  on  one  spot  almost  with  the  air  of 
being  surprised  at  what  they  saw.  John  Mar- 
shall Lea  sat  at  his  desk.  She  watched  him 
impersonally.  If  any  excitement  or  interest 

83 


MERE  MAN 

was  aroused  in  her  heart,  she  showed  none 
of  it  in  her  face.  By  leaning  forward  she  could 
have  seen  more  of  him  than  just  his  head.  But 
she  did  not  lean  forward. 

Presently  the  man  on  the  floor  finished  his 
task  and  subsided  into  his  seat.  The  stenog- 
rapher, thrusting  carelessly  under  his  arm  the 
only  existing  record  of  the  recent  winged  words, 
rose,  thirsting  for  more  words.  The  clerk  at 
the  desk  adjusted  his  glasses,  and  with  a  poise 
that  was  absolute,  sang  a  short  selection  to  the 
House. 

The  song,  which  like  grand  opera  in  Eng- 
lish was  more  or  less  indistinguishable,  had 
something  to  do  with  the  limit  of  cost  of  a 
certain  Federal  building  which  the  bill  in  the 
clerk's  hands  proposed  to  raise  from  such  and 
such  a  figure  to  such  and  such  a  figure.  All 
this  was  as  unimportant  to  Deborah  as  it  ap- 
peared to  be  to  every  one  else  in  the  chamber. 
The  place  this  Federal  building  was  to  adorn 
she  had  never  heard  of  before.  She  wondered 
what  was  to  happen  next. 

84 


MERE  MAN 

The  Speaker  seized  his  gavel  and  delivered 
a  muscular  blow  upon  the  desk. 

"  The  gentleman  from  Kentucky,"  he  cried. 
"  The  House  will  be  in  order.  Gentlemen  will 
cease  conversation." 

He  glared  about  the  chamber.  Bang.  Bang. 
The  gavel  fell  again.  The  contented  murmur 
died  down  a  trifle. 

"  The  gentleman  from  Kentucky." 

Deborah  did  not  know  who  the  gentleman 
from  Kentucky  might  be.  She  glanced  at  the 
clock,  wondering  whether  to  stay  longer. 

She  made  a  tentative  move,  preparatory  to 
rising.  And  then  the  sound  of  a  firm,  clear 
voice,  a  familiar  voice,  reached  her  ear.  She 
did  not  have  to  look  down  upon  the  floor  of 
the  House  to  know  that  it  was  John  Marshall 
Lea  who  had  been  elected  from  the  State  of 
Kentucky. 

But  she  did  look  down  upon  the  floor  of 
the  House.  Her  eyes  sought  the  speaker.  A 
tremor  of  excitement  ran  through  her.  He  ad- 
dressed the  House  of  Representatives  in  the 

85 


MERE  MAN 

same  even,  dispassionate  tone  that  he  had 
used  when  he  had  talked  to  her.  A  whimsical 
choosing  of  his  words,  a  crispness  to  his 
sentences,  and  the  carrying  power  of  his 
voice  mowed  down  the  conversation  about 
him.  He  used  no  flowers  of  speech.  He 
was  asking  for  the  increase  in  appropriation 
carried  by  the  bill  that  had  just  been  read 
at  the  desk.  He  did  not  ask  for  it  in  the 
name  of  the  forty-eight  stars  and  the  thirteen 
stripes.  He  asked  for  it  by  virtue  of  cer- 
tain statistics  which  he  read  and  followed 
by  a  logical,  concise  statement.  The  whole 
speech  took  two  minutes  by  the  clock  over 
the  Speaker's  desk.  But  she  noted  with  a 
feeling  that  might  almost  have  been  called 
pride  that  all  about  the  House  the  mem- 
bers were  listening.  However,  it  availed  him 
little. 

After  he  had  finished,  a  gentleman  sitting 
near  the  Speaker's  desk  rose  impressively  and 
replied  in  a  colorless  speech  that  referred  to  a 

certain  goddess  by  the  name  of  Economy,  that 

86 


MERE  MAN 

great  name  to  conjure  with  when  all  other 
deities  fail.  It  was  plain  from  his  speech  that 
he  was  saying,  though  not  in  so  many  words, 
that  the  House  of  Representatives  was  not  in- 
terested in  the  needs  of  the  town  in  Kentucky, 
that  the  money  might  be  better  used  for  build- 
ings in  Maine  or  California  or  whatever  state  it 
was  the  respective  members  had  been  chosen 
from.  What  is  patriotism  in  one's  own  state  is 
extravagance  in  another  man's  state.  The 
vote  was  taken  and  the  bill  was,  with  a  certain 
air  of  nonchalance,  voted  down.  Lea  had  not 
touched  deep  enough.  He  was  thinking,  per- 
haps, at  that  moment  that  to  put  through  a  bill 
so  special  in  its  appeal,  he  must  hold  in  his 
hand  a  great  lever  to  pry  the  House  out  of  its 
lethargy. 

He  called  immediately  for  a  division  and  de- 
layed the  decision  long  enough  to  send  out  for 
his  friends  who  were  in  the  cloak-rooms.  But 
many  were  in  the  committee  rooms  which  were 
in  the  House  Office  Building  across  the  street ; 
and  it  is  a  long  journey  even  by  the  under- 

8? 


MERE  MAN 

ground  passage,  so  that  he  could  not  get  his 
majority.  Deborah  was  as  chagrined  and  cast 
down  as  if  it  had  been  her  own  bill  that  was 
defeated. 

But  John  Lea  was  not  idle.  He  left  the  cham- 
ber for  a  moment  and  returned  presently  to  his 
seat.  Something  in  the  resolute  set  of  his  mouth 
prompted  Deborah  to  remain.  In  a  short  time 
a  score  of  members  who  had  not  been  there 
before  entered  and  took  their  seats.  Lea 
rose.  She  wondered.  It  would  have  been  im- 
possible to  get  the  House  of  Representatives 
under  ordinary  circumstances  to  reconsider  his 
bill. 

"  Why  does  the  gentleman  rise  ?  "  demanded 
the  Speaker. 

There  was  a  strange  light  in  the  gentleman's 
eyes. 

"  Mr.  Speaker,"  he  said,  gravely  and  impress- 
ively, "  I  rise  to  a  question  of  the  highest  per- 
sonal privilege." 

The  House  held  its  breath.  This  meant  ex- 
citement. 

88 


MERE  MAN 

"  This  question  affects  the  right  of  a  member 
to  his  seat  in  the  House." 

The  statement  was  serious  and  far-reaching. 
Deborah  could  see  the  members  leaning  for- 
ward in  their  seats.  But  they  all  saw  the 
glimmer  of  humor  in  his  eyes.  Lea  was  calm 
and  self-possessed.  He  had  the  situation  in  his 
hands. 

"  The  member,"  he  said,  amidst  an  absolute 
silence,  "  is  myself." 

The  House  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter.  He 
had  touched  beneath  their  skins. 

"If  I  do  not  get  the  appropriation  for  my 
custom  house,"  he  exclaimed,  "  under  the  im- 
perative facts  I  stated  a  moment  ago,  my 
constituents  will  not  return  me  to  my  seat 
in  this  House  and  I  shall  not  deserve  to  be 
returned.  I  ask  you  now  to  reconsider  and 
pass  my  bill." 

There  was  nothing  parliamentary  in  this 
unique  method  of  attack.  In  fact  it  might 
have  been  said  that  it  was  merely  a  subtly 
transparent  evasion  of  parliamentary  proce- 

89 


MERE  MAN 

dure.  But  in  it  was  embodied  a  serene  under- 
standing of  the  natures  about  him. 

The  leader  of  his  side  of  the  chamber  asked 
him  again  as  to  certain  facts  he  had  stated. 
The  Goddess  Economy  faded  into  the  misty 
distance.  Lea  pressed  his  advantage  gently 
and  skilfully.  A  gentleman  rose  and  made  a 
brief  speech  full  of  legislative  humor  which  ac- 
centuated the  good  spirits  of  the  tired  members. 
Lea  had  put  rose  glasses  upon  them.  And 
when  the  vote  was  taken  again  on  the  bill,  it 
slipped  pleasantly  through  by  a  comfortable 
majority. 

Deborah  looked  at  him  when  it  was  all  over 
— triumph  in  her  heart.  He  sat  at  his  desk 
just  as  he  had  before.  And  then  he  looked 
up,  almost  directly  at  her,  as  though  he  felt  her 
presence. 

She  walked  home.  Dusk  was  just  beginning 
to  fall.  The  sky  in  the  west  was  a  deep  rose- 
pink  and  against  it  stood  the  black  silhouette  of 
the  buildings  before  her.  Lights  everywhere 

were  springing  into  life.     The  new  moon  hung 
90 


MERE  MAN 

in  the  sky.  The  sidewalks  bustled  with  people 
hurrying  home.  She  turned  presently  into  a 
quieter  street  and  she  heard  footsteps  resound- 
ing behind  her. 

"  Miss  Carver,"  said  a  voice. 

She  wheeled  about. 

11  Mr.  Lea." 

"  I  hope  you  will  forgive  my  sleuthing  you, 
but  I  felt  that  I  must  see  you." 

"I  sat  in  the  gallery  of  your  place  of  business 
just  now,"  she  confessed. 

"  I  know.  I  saw  you  there.  I  have  been 
endeavoring  to  have  a  moment's  conversation 
with  you  for  some  time.  But  you  are  more 
difficult  of  access  than  the  President.  I  prom- 
enaded the  roof  one  warm  evening  a  week  ago 
hoping  the  starlight  would  tempt  you.  But  I 
think  you  were  not  in  your  room." 

"  How  did  you  know  that?"  she  demanded. 

"  Deep  deduction.  I  saw  the  shadow  of  the 
prim  lady  who  occupies  the  room  adjoining 
yours  falling  on  the  brick  wall  beside  your 
window.  You  have  said  she  talks  readily.  As 


MERE  MAN 

she  was  not  talking,  I  assumed  there  was  no 
one  in  the  room  with  her." 

She  smiled  at  him. 

"Sometimes  you  are  really  bright,  you 
know." 

He  bowed. 

"  I  value  your  good  opinion  above  fine 
gold,"  he  asserted. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  do,"  she  said.  "  I  am  all 
curiosity  to  know  what  you  wanted  to  see  me 
about." 

"  Is  it  true,"  he  asked,  "  that  you  are  expect- 
ing to  appear  before  our  committee  in  behalf  of 
the  suffragists?" 

"Yes." 

He  hesitated. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  he  went  on,  "  how  to  ask 
what  I  have  to  ask.  I  have  no  right  to  ask  it 
as  a  favor,  nor  can  I  give  a  very  good  and 
sensible  reason  for  it.  I  want  to  ask  you  not 
to  appear." 

"Why?"  she  asked,  evenly. 

"  Because,"    he    replied,    "  your    friendship, 
92 


MERE  MAN 

your  personality,  mean  too  much  to  me  to 
have  you  appear  there.  To  me  you  are 
wonderfully  and  exquisitely  feminine.  There 
are  fundamental  things  in  life  for  you — 
womanly  things,  motherly  things,  things  that 
have  been  important  in  the  world  for  thousands 
of  years — which  are  more  valuable  and  dearer 
to  your  heart  than  the  mere  matter  of  voting. 
Why  drag  yourself  out  of  yourself  for  a  bauble 
like  that  ?  Your  supporters  in  this  movement 
will  say  it  is  old-fashioned  for  a  man  to  expect 
a  woman  to  remain  a  woman ;  but  I  do.  I 
would  rather  you  stayed  on  your  mountain 
height." 

"  I  could  not  change  now,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  but  firmly. 

He  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"  You  are  certain  of  that  ?  " 

"Absolutely." 

He  sighed. 

"Very  well,"  he  replied,  smiling.  "I  shall 
have  to  forget  for  the  time  that  you  are  you." 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  she  returned.  "Wouldn't 
93 


MERE  MAN 

it  be  better,"  she  asked,  presently,  "  to  simply 
come  over  to  our  side  ?  " 

He  smiled. 

"'Again  the  Devil  taketh  Him  up  into  an 
exceeding  high  mountain,'  "  he  said. 


94 


CHAPTER  IX 

QOUTHEAST  of  the  Capitol  te  the  low- 
*^  lying  white  marble  structure  that  is  the 
office  building  of  the  House  of  Representatives. 
It  and  its  twin — the  Senate  Office  Building — 
are  the  last  word  in  refinement  and  culture. 
They  are  almost  supercilious  in  their  propriety, 
in  their  studied  correctness,  flaunting  their 
architectural  blue-blood  in  the  face  of  the 
sturdy  old  Capitol  as  though  they  would  say, 
"  My  wehd,  old  chap,  don't  throw  out  your 
chest  so.  It's  crewd,  you  know.  It  isn't  done 
at  all,  really." 

Within  are  the  Turkish  baths  and  the  restau- 
rants and  offices  and  committee  rooms  of  those 
fortunate — or  unfortunate,  according  as  you 
look  at  it — individuals  who  have  been  chosen 
by  the  people  at  home  to  be  statesmen,  for 
which  thankless  job  they  receive  a  little  bit  of 

95 


MERE  MAN 

money,  the  privilege  of  using  their  signature 
instead  of  a  two-cent  stamp,  the  maledictions 
of  the  public  press,  and  railroad  fare. 

It  was  toward  this  white  office  building  of  the 
House  that  Deborah,  her  heart  beating  at  more 
than  its  usual  cadence,  her  eyes  bright  with 
excitement,  walked  slowly  along  one  sunny 
day  in  November.  This  was  the  day  she  was 
to  appear  before  the  committee  and  make  her 
plea.  The  leafless  trees  on  the  Capitol  grounds 
stood  bare  and  gaunt  in  the  sunshine.  The 
little  gray  squirrels,  foreseeing  the  approach  of 
winter,  scampered  over  the  hard  earth  search- 
ing for  food,  pausing  now  and  then,  alert  on 
their  haunches,  enjoying  the  pretense  that  they 
were  wild  in  the  woods  and  that  these  humans 
who  passed  were  carrying  guns  for  little  squir- 
rels instead  of  peanuts. 

At  the  street  corner,  a  girl  who  had  been 
waiting  for  a  car  ran  up  to  her. 

"Why,  Deborah  Carver,"  she  cried,  grasp- 
ing both  her  hands. 

"  Frances." 

96 


MERE  MAN 

"Where  are  you  going?"  demanded  the 
other. 

"  I  am  a  spinster  lady  going  to  make  my 
testimony  before  some  congressmen  on  the  sub- 
ject of  woman's  suffrage." 

"  Dear,  oh,  dear  1  There  is  such  a  question, 
isn't  there  ?  How  do  you  get  time — oh,  but  you 
are  not  married.  I  am  so  busy  thinking  about 
babies,  and  babies'  foods  and  babies'  baths  and 
those  flitting  evanescent  things  called  chil- 
dren's shoes,  which  are  here  to-day  and  to- 
morrow are  worn  to  shreds,  that  I  have  no  time 
to  think  of  these  advanced  ideas." 

"  The  foremost  feminists  say  that's  stagnation, 
Frances,  dear." 

"  But  I  like  it.  I  would  go  through  fire  for 
my  children.  Before  I  was  married,  I  used  to 
belong  to  current  events  clubs  and  discuss 
weighty  questions  and  feel  that  I  was  stirring 
atoms  of  intellect  that  might  help  some  day  in 
the  uplift  of  woman.  The  uplift  of  woman,  in- 
deed !  Do  you  realize,  my  dear,  that  there  can 
be  nothing  more  glorious  for  women  than  in  fol- 

97 


MERE  MAN 

lowing  out  her  natural  bent  and  raising  fine, 
strong  children  for  the  world.  Beside  that  the 
mere  privilege  of  casting  a  ballot  twice  a  year 
is  too  insignificant  to  think  about." 

"  Even,"  observed  Deborah,  mildly,  "  if  it 
helped  to  pass  legislation  that  was  beneficial  to 
the  fine,  strong  children  ?  " 

The  other  hesitated — as  if  that  were  a  phase 
of  the  situation  she  had  not  considered. 

"  The  arguments  for  woman's  suffrage,"  she 
said,  at  length,  tracing  a  pattern  on  the  pave- 
ment with  her  umbrella,  "  presuppose  that  all 
laws  to  be  advocated  by  women  will  be  benefi- 
cial laws ;  that  is,  that  the  feminine  intellect  is 
on  such  a  high  plane  that  no  combination  of 
women  will  support  legislation  which  it  will  be 
necessary  for  the  remainder  of  us  to  oppose. 
Women  will  all  act  together  as  a  unit — for  the 
public  good." 

"  Don't  you  believe  that  they  will  ?  " 

"  I  believe  they  are  human.  I  believe  they 
will  sometimes  support  good  legislation  and 

sometimes    bad.     I   believe  that   there   would 

98 


MERE  MAN 

come  times  when  I  should  have  to  oppose  issues 
that  other  women  supported.  And  opposition 
in  politics  means  endless  activity.  Simply  drop- 
ping one  intelligent  vote  in  the  ballot  box  helps 
very  little." 

"  But  if  many  women  dropped  in  the  intelli- 
gent vote,  it  would  help  materially." 

"  Some  women  could  do  more.  Unmarried 
women  and  married  women  without  children — 
or  who  leave  the  care  of  their  children  to  nurses 
— would  have  an  immeasurable  advantage  over 
the  rest  of  us.  Winning  at  the  polls  is  a  busi- 
ness in  which  organization  and  generalship  are 
the  essential  things.  A  woman  who  wishes  to 
be  efficient  in  her  home  cannot  properly  give 
the  time  to  perfecting  an  organization  and  lay- 
ing plans  of  battle.  She  has  an  organization 
under  her  own  roof  that  requires  her  to  con- 
serve her  resources  and  is  entitled  to  her  first 
consideration.  No  one  has  forced  the  care  of 
that  household  upon  her.  She  assumes  it  will- 
ingly— no,  in  the  majority  of  cases  she  assumes 
it  with  enthusiasm." 

99 


MERE  MAN 

Deborah  looked  at  her  companion  queerly. 
She  remembered  that,  by  the  time  she  was 
twenty-six,  she  had  thought  she  would  have  as- 
sumed that  responsibility — certainly  with  en- 
thusiasm. 

"  But,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  are  in  the  infe- 
rior position  of  having  no  voice  in  your  own 
government.  Isn't  that  a  slur  on  your  intel- 
lect?" 

"  No.  I  feel  that  the  whole  thing  is  merely 
an  amicable  division  of  effort.  Woman,  by 
reason  of  her  ability  to  bear  and  nurse  children, 
assumes  the  responsibility  of  the  home ;  man, 
by  reason  of  his  strength,  assumes  the  responsi- 
bility of  earning  their  living  and  caring  for  their 
political  welfare.  It  is  just  the  same  as  any 
other  division  of  responsibility.  When  my  hus- 
band and  I  were  first  married  and  were  too 
thoroughly  poor  to  afford  a  maid,  he  took  care 
of  the  furnace  and  I  took  care  of  the  kitchen 
range.  We  made  that  arrangement  because  it 
best  suited  our  respective  convenience  and 
strength.  But  I  did  not  feel  that  it  was  a  slur 

100 


MERE  MAN 

on  my  intellect  or  capacity  because  I  was  not 
allowed  to  care  for  the  furnace  too." 

"  But  suppose  you  felt  that  he  could  have 
done  it  better  with  your  help  ?  " 

Frances  laughed. 

"  It  would  only  have  ended  in  the  range  go- 
ing out.  Wouldn't  I  have  made  a  pretty  figure, 
my  dear,  explaining  that  I  could  do  my  work 
and  half  of  his  as  well  ?  " 

Deborah  smiled. 

"  I  think,  Frances,  the  thing  you  overlook  is 
the  fact  that  woman's  influence  will  be  always  a 
power  for  good." 

"  Why  should  it  ? "  demanded  the  other 
quickly.  "  Are  women  any  more  immune  from 
error,  or  mistakes  in  judgment,  or  culpability, 
than  men  ?  Aren't  they  the  same  frail  humans, 
possessing  the  same  average  of  faults  and 
virtues  ?  You  are  not  introducing  a  new  ele- 
ment into  politics.  You  are  simply  doubling 
the  present  one." 

Deborah  started  to  reply  and  then  suddenly 

she  was  struck  with  the  force  of  the  statement. 

101 


MERE  MAN 

"  That  is  a  new  idea  for  me,"  she  said, 
slowly. 

Frances  brightened. 

"  Then  I  shall  not  count  this  day  lost."  She 
stepped  out  into  the  street  to  board  the  car  that 
was  approaching.  "  Remember  this,  Deborah," 
she  said.  "  God  made  you  a  woman,  with  all 
a  woman's  weakness  of  body.  And  God  made 
them  men.  That  is  the  fundamental  idea  to  be 
borne  in  mind  in  this  agitation." 

Deborah  stared  after  the  car  as  it  rumbled 
away,  and  then  walked  thoughtfully  on  up  the 
steep  street  toward  the  white  building  before 
her. 

The  Gommittee  room  was  an  ornate  room, 
and  not  the  bare,  bald  torture  chamber  she  had 
expected.  At  one  end  a  closely  packed  audi- 
ence sat.  They  had  been  standing  in  line  for 
hours,  and  hordes  of  their  disappointed  sisters 
were  even  now  crowding  the  corridor,  picking 
up  crumbs  of  gossip  and  hoping  that  something 
would  happen  that  would  let  them  too  into  the 

sacred  precinct.     At  the  far  end  of  the  room 

102 


MERE  MAN 

was  a  long  mahogany  table,  around  which  sat 
ten  inquisitors,  to  use  a  term  that  corresponded 
with  the  feeling  within  her.  The  chairman, 
drowsily  awake,  sat  at  the  head  of  it  and 
directed  the  proceedings.  Mrs.  Dobson,  her 
bonnet  sitting  at  the  same  angle  at  which  she 
had  firmly  planted  it  in  her  haste  immediately 
after  breakfast,  her  square-toed  shoes  set  res- 
olutely on  the  rug  before  her,  her  mouth  in  a 
hard,  firm  line  as  if  she  were  a  reincarnation  of 
the  Sphinx,  dominated  the  scene,  dealing  out 
the  time  allotted  her  to  her  various  supporters 
as  she  saw  fit. 

Deborah  found  a  seat  waiting  for  her  beside 
Mrs.  Dobson.  The  hearings  had  already  be- 
gun. A  woman  seated  at  the  end  of  the  long 
table  opposite  the  chairman  was  making  an  im- 
passioned appeal,  the  feathers  in  her  bonnet 
bobbing  emphatically  as  she  spoke.  There  was 
enthusiasm  and  assurance  in  her  voice  and  in 
her  eyes  the  inspired  light  of  a  prophet.  The 
whole  question  lay  before  her  like  a  map.  She 

knew   her   way  around   her   conception   of  it 

103 


MERE  MAN 

blindfold.  There  was  something  inspiring  in 
her  sureness  and  her  unmoved  conviction  that 
she  was  in  the  right. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  from  Deb- 
orah sat  John  Lea.  She  gazed  at  him  as  he 
sat  there  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  blotter  before  him.  It  was  evident 
that  nothing  that  was  said  escaped  him.  Oc- 
casionally he  would  look  up  at  the  speaker  as 
though  something  she  had  said  had  attracted 
his  attention  and  once  he  leaned  forward  and 
scratched  a  few  words  on  his  pad. 

The  next  speaker  was  an  aggressive  young 
woman  with  a  tongue  like  a  thin  Damascus 
blade.  Her  caustic  conversation  roused  the 
committeemen.  They  gazed  at  her  with  inter- 
est and  once  or  twice  interrupted  her  to  ask  a 
question,  getting  in  return  replies  with  a  sting 
that  left  the  questioners  discomfited.  Lea 
sometimes  smiled  at  her  sallies.  Once,  a 
humorous  gleam  in  his  eyes,  he  interrupted  her 
himself,  with  the  exaggerated  air  of  a  man  about 

to  enter  a  den  of  lions. 

104 


MERE  MAN 

"  Could  you  tell  me,"  he  asked,  pleasantly, 
"  how  many  women  in  the  United  States  favor 
woman's  suffrage  ?  " 

"  All  of  them." 

"  Every  one  ?  " 

"  Except  a  few  old  aunts  and  antis." 

"  Naturally,"  he  agreed.  "  And  how  many 
women  are  enrolled  in  your  organization  ?  " 

"  Two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  But  with 
five  thousand  Joshua  marched  round  the  city  of 
Jericho  and  the  walls  fell." 

"  Joshua  knew  the  combination,"  he  observed, 
smiling,  and  let  her  go  on  with  her  argument. 

The  questions  he  asked  now  and  then  of  the 
women  who  spoke  were  direct  and  for  informa- 
tion. He  did  not  attempt  to  "  rattle  "  them  or 
confuse  their  testimony.  On  the  contrary,  he 
was  considerate  and  courteous.  Deborah  found 
that  her  sympathy  was  with  him.  It  was  not 
sympathy  with  his  side  of  the  question,  but 
sympathy  with  him  as  a  person.  How  could 
she  help  bring  confusion  upon  the  man's  cause 

if  she  looked  with  favor  on  him?    But  Mrs. 

105 


MERE  MAN 

Dobson  felt  no  sympathy  for  him.  Every  time 
he  spoke  her  mouth  drew  tighter,  until  it  seemed 
that  it  could  stand  the  strain  but  a  little  while 
longer.  Presently  she  leaned  toward  Deborah 
and  said  : 

"  We  have  just  time  for  one  more  speaker. 
I  want  you  to  take  the  stand." 

Deborah  sat  up  straighter  in  her  chair.  A 
hot  fire  of  excitement  burned  in  her  breast. 
Her  mind  and  heart  were  back  in  her  own  camp. 
She  had  visited  the  enemy's  outpost,  so  to 
speak,  and  now  she  was  ready  to  fight. 

The  speaker  finished — Mrs.  Dobson  rose. 

"  In  yielding,"  she  said,  "  the  last  few  minutes 
of  my  time  to  Miss  Carver,  I  wish  to  say  that 
she  typifies  the  spirit  of  the  women  who  are 
fighting  for  equal  suffrage.  Young,  attractive, 
with  all  the  charm  that  could  make  any  woman 
lovable,  she  voluntarily  gave  up  her  chance  of 
marriage  to  follow  in  our  cause  and  help  us 
fight  this  great  fight.  Nothing  could  be  more 
admirable  and  touching  and  forceful  than  that. 

I  yield  to  Miss  Carver." 

1 06 


MERE  MAN 

A  storm  of  applause  burst  out  in  the  room. 
Deborah  glanced  for  a  fraction  of  a  second  at 
Lea.  A  flush  had  mounted  his  face.  Had  he 
known  before  what  Mrs.  Dobson  had  said  ? 
The  applause  continued.  She  rose  and  walked 
to  her  place  at  the  head  of  the  table.  A  hush 
fell  upon  the  room. 

She  found  that  she  was  as  cool  as  if  she  were 
in  her  own  school  facing  her  pupils.  She  noted 
the  reflection  of  the  lights  on  the  polished  table. 
She  saw  the  pattern  of  the  vest  on  the  ample 
bosom  of  the  gentleman  beside  her.  Realizing 
the  value  of  the  silence,  she  did  not  hurry  with 
her  beginning,  but  when  she  was  comfortably 
seated,  allowed  them  a  moment  of  expectancy, 
and  then,  catching  them  on  the  crest  of  the 
wave,  began  to  talk. 

There  was  no  sound  in  the  room  but  her  clear 
voice.  The  voice  was  not  strong,  but  it  had  a 
quality  that  made  every  word  distinctly  audible 
in  the  far  corners  of  the  chamber.  She  did  not 
attempt  to  rise  to  any  height  of  feeling.  Her 

whole  idea  was  to  present  a  connected  argu- 

107 


MERE  MAN 

ment,  which  should  carry  itself  along  by  its  own 
momentum  like  a  proof  in  geometry.  The 
arguments  she  used  had  all  been  advanced  be- 
fore again  and  again.  She  merely  selected  and 
arranged  and  coordinated  them.  She  pre- 
sented the  whole  question  from  its  ethical  stand- 
point— the  standpoint  of  the  right  of  the  indi- 
vidual woman  to  the  ballot,  without  respect  to 
expediency.  To  her  mind  this  was  the  strong- 
est phase  of  the  question.  Discrimination  in 
the  suffrage  seemed  to  her  unfair.  That  was 
the  citadel  of  her  belief.  And  backed  by  that 
conviction,  she  spoke  clearly  and  impressively. 
She  could  feel  that  she  was  being  listened  to. 

When  she  had  finished,  the  room  burst  into 
a  thunder  of  applause,  in  which  some  of  the 
men  round  the  table,  notably  the  gentleman  in 
the  flowered  vest,  joined.  She  sat  still  in  her 
chair,  gazing  mildly  at  her  white-gloved  hands, 
folded  before  her.  The  applause  died  down. 
There  was  a  tense  silence. 

It  was  broken  by  John  Lea. 

"  Miss  Carver,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  your  speech 
1 08 


MERE  MAN 

has  been  heard  with  more  than  usual  attention, 
and  I  feel  that  I  speak  for  the  whole  committee 
when  I  say  we  are  all  indebted  to  you  for  your 
clear  explanation  of  your  case.  The  question 
of  suffrage  for  women,"  he  went  on,  "  depends 
wholly  on  the  women.  There  are  twenty-five 
million  adult  women  in  the  United  States. 
There  are  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
women  in  your  association.  We  will  note  the 
testimony  of  you  and  your  colleagues,  Miss 
Carver,  as  the  expression  of  the  views  of  one 
woman  in  each  one  hundred." 

A  murmur  broke  loose  in  the  room. 

Deborah  faced  Mr.  Lea. 

"  You  must  remember,"  she  said,  "  there  are 
thousands  of  women  not  enrolled  in  our  asso- 
ciation who  favor  the  suffrage." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  returned  he,  quickly.  "  I 
simply  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  no  evidence 
as  to  them  has  been  presented  to  us." 

There  was  no  reply  to  that. 

"  It  is  perhaps  unnecessary,"  Lea  continued, 

"  as  this  is  merely  a  hearing,  for  me  to  make  a 

109 


MERE  MAN 

statement.  But  I  feel  that  it  will  perhaps  facil- 
itate matters  during  the  remainder  of  the  hear- 
ings if  I  do  so.  I  have  made  the  point  of  the 
minority  who  favor  woman's  suffrage — I  believe 
it  is  generally  acknowledged  to  be  about  one 
woman  in  ten — because  I  feel  that  it  is  the  pivot 
of  the  whole  matter.  Woman's  suffrage  is  a 
sweepingly  revolutionary  measure — it  is  not  a 
thing  to  be  decided  offhand,  or  by  virtue  of 
a  theory,  or  from  motives  of  chivalry.  Men 
and  women  are  different  in  their  bodies,  in  their 
functions,  in  their  emotions  and  in  their  mental 
processes.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  certain  du- 
ties of  the  home  have  devolved  upon  the  woman 
and  certain  duties  of  breadwinning  and  gov- 
ernment have  devolved  upon  men.  This  divi- 
sion of  responsibilities  has  been  in  operation  for 
centuries  and  under  it  the  world  has  moved  for- 
ward to  a  high  state  of  civilization.  In  other 
words,  it  is  efficient.  That  is  the  point  I  wish 
to  make." 

He  paused.     Deborah  found  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  him. 

no 


MERE  MAN 

"We  are  now  asked  to  give  up  an  efficient 
system,"  he  went  on,  "  for  one  that  may  be 
efficient,  but  has  not  been  proven  so  ;  a  system 
whose  adoption  would  only  be  justifiable  in 
event  of  its  being  shown  that  woman  has  out- 
grown the  present  one.  It  will  be  necessary  to 
show  that  they  have  outgrown  it — not  that 
ten  per  cent,  have  outgrown  it,  but  that  the 
whole  body  of  them  have ;  that  the  terms 
1  masculine '  and  '  feminine,'  which  made  male 
suffrage  possible,  have  grown  synonymous, 
that  woman,  in  the  average,  is  no  longer  willing 
to  sit  peacefully  beside  the  man  of  her  choice 
without  her  hand  too  on  the  throttle.  The 
relation  between  the  majority  of  men  and 
women  is  that  of  man  and  wife.  That  is  what 
is  intended  in  the  scheme  of  the  universe.  The 
woman's  suffrage  movement  is  made  possible 
by  unmarried  women,  who  have  attacked  the 
world — from  necessity — in  a  man's  way,  who 
labor  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  men,  who  try 
to  think  as  men  think.  They  feel  that  their 

sex,  instead  of  being  a  prerogative,  is  a  handi- 

iii 


MERE  MAN 

cap  to  them.  They  wish  to  establish  a  condi- 
tion for  all  women  to  suit  their  own  special 
case.  I  make  no  criticism  of  this,  but  I  say 
there  are  other  women  to  be  convinced." 

Deborah  had  listened  with  no  thought  of 
aggression  in  her.  Indignation  seized  her, 
when  he  had  finished,  that  she  had  no  reply  to 
his  arraignment  of  her  cause.  She  had  still 
a  minute  of  her  time  left.  But,  instead  of  argu- 
ments martialing  themselves  in  her  brain,  she 
found  herself  instead  struck  on  a  sudden  rock 
of  doubt.  Was  it  true  that  her  duty  as  a 
woman  required  certain  things  of  her  merely 
by  virtue  of  her  being  a  woman  and  that  her 
cause  was  not  an  attack  against  an  artificial 
system,  but  against  a  deep-rooted  fundamental 
thing — against  Providence  for  having  created 
her  a  woman  ? 

The  idea  staggered  her.  She  was  not 
ashamed  of  being  a  woman.  Her  sex  was 
precious  to  her.  In  her  heart  burned  a  sting- 
ing flame — of  resentment,  of  half-formed  self- 
accusation  fired  by  the  charge  in  Lea's  words 

112 


MERE  MAN 

— the  charge  against  them — against  her — of 
masculinity.  Until  to-day,  she  had  not 
thought  of  it  in  that  way.  The  question  had 
not  been  complex  to  her.  She  had  been 
actuated  merely  by  a  desire  to  have  her  own 
opinion  officially  recognized.  She  strove  to 
enter  no  alien  field.  Far  above  everything 
else — more  important  than  any  civil  regulation 
— was  her  pride  in  her  own  womanliness. 

In  the  midst  of  her  absorption,  she  heard 
the  voice  of  the  gentleman,  the  wearer  of  the 
flowered  waistcoat,  as  if  he  were  speaking  from 
the  far  distance. 

"  Miss  Carver,"  he  said,  "  it  has  been  stated 
as  an  argument  that  you  are  so  zealous  in  this 
cause  that  you  would  rather  have  the  right  to 
vote  than  have  a  husband.  Is  that  actually 
true  ?  It  would  throw  an  interesting  side-light 
on  this  question." 

There  was  a  hush  in  the  room.  Then 
Deborah  felt  herself  rising  to  her  feet.  The 
tips  of  her  fingers  pressed  against  the  polished 
wood  of  the  table.  Her  intention  had  been  to 


MERE  MAN 

refuse  to  answer — to  say  that  the  question  was 
too  personal  and  had  no  bearing  on  the  subject. 
But  an  irresistible  force  moved  her,  put  in  her 
a  desire  to  lay  her  position  accurately  before 
them. 

"  The  action  you  refer  to,"  she  found  herself 
saying,  in  a  low  voice,  but  quite  distinctly, 
"  was  taken  because  I  thought  it  would  help 
the  cause.  It  represented  no  personal  prefer- 
ence. I  am  quite  certain,  on  the  contrary," 
she  concluded,  the  blood  rushing  to  her  face, 
"  that  I  should  prefer  a  husband  to  the  vote." 


CHAPTER  X 

AFTER  the  first  dazed  silence,  the  room 
broke  into  an  uproar.     Mrs.  Dobson  sat 
as  motionless  as  if  one  view  of  the  head  of 
Medusa  had  turned  her  to  stone. 

"  I  told  you  beforehand,"  asserted  Deborah, 
reaching  for  her  muff,  "  that  I  would  have  to 
be  honest." 

The  other  bounced  to  her  feet. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  blame  you,"  she  cried.  "  But 
that  Lea  man.  He  avoids  the  issue.  He 
poisons  the  minds  of  the  congressmen  by  say- 
ing we  are  only  a  small  minority.  Does  that 
affect  the  righteousness  of  our  cause  ?  If  one 
woman  came  here  and  proved  that  equal 
suffrage  was  righf,  Congress  ought  to  pass  a 
law  and  make  the  other  women  vote  whether 
they  wanted  to  or  not^  If  the  ballot  is  a 
woman's  right,  she  ought  to  be  made  to 
exercise  it." 

"5 


MERE  MAN 

Deborah  presently  escaped  from  a  crowd  of 
excited  women  and  came  out  upon  the  streets, 
now  lighted  with  their  electric  lights.  She  was 
tremendously  agitated.  She  did  not  want  it  to 
be  considered  that  she  was  dissatisfied  with  her 
sex.  She  had  no  fault  to  find  with  the  way  she 
had  been  created.  She  was  proud  that  she  was 
a  woman.  This  new  idea  that  Providence  had 
endowed  man  with  strength  for  the  purpose  of 
administering  the  belligerent  functions  of  life 
and  woman  with  gentleness  to  deal  with  chil- 
dren and  her  home,  gave  her  pause.  If  this 
were  true,  was  her  revolt  against  the  domina- 
tion of  man,  or  was  it  against  the  decree  of 
heaven  ?  If  it  were  true,  did  not  the  doctrine  of 
woman's  suffrage  become  a  mere  dissatisfaction 
with  sex  ?  It  was  a  dissatisfaction  with  a  woman's 
restrictions,  which  were  all  traceable  to  the  mere 
fact  that  she  was  a  woman. 

For  the  first  time,  doubt  crossed  her  mind. 
And  she  felt  vaguely  that  the  doubt  was  there 
because  a  new  element  had  entered  into  her 

being.     She  tried  to  prove  to  herself  that  her 

116 


MERE  MAN 

passing  interest  in  John  Lea  was  an  incidental 
thing,  that  she  thought  of  him  merely  with  the 
same  friendly  lukewarmness  she  reserved  for 
Jane.  She  pretended  there  was  no  pursuit,  that 
his  interest  awakened  in  her  no  refreshed  pride 
in  her  good  looks  and  her  personal  charms. 
She  pretended,  in  a  word,  that  her  satisfaction 
that  she  was  a  woman  was  not  augmented  by 
his  presence  on  the  scene ;  that  no  primary  emo- 
tion stirred  in  her  heart,  threatening  to  drive  all 
other  considerations  from  it.  But  it  was  only  a 
thin  pretense. 

As  she  walked  up  Pennsylvania  Avenue  she 
felt  as  if  she  wanted  something  to  take  her  mind 
off  the  subject  that  she  had  been  thinking  about 
for  the  past  week.  She  wanted  to  fill  her  head 
up  with  anything  that  would  adulterate  the 
strong  solution  of  woman's  suffrage  that  clogged 
the  convolutions  of  her  brain.  A  bright  light 
burned  in  the  building  before  her — a  bright 
light  that  marked  the  open  door  to  a  wonderful 
land  of  fancy — a  place  of  magic  carpets  which 

whirled  one  in  an  instant  to  the  far  East  and  the 

117 


MERE  MAN 

far  West,  to  the  mysteries  of  the  dimmest  past, 
to  the  still  deeper  mysteries  of  the  present. 
When  you  say  this  palace  of  wonder  was  noth- 
ing but  a  moving-picture  show,  you  have  de- 
scribed it  exactly.  But  you  have  described  the 
greatest  gripping  force  of  our  modern  civiliza- 
tion ;  the  force  that  has  changed  the  manners 
and  customs  of  our  people,  that  has  furnished 
them  with  a  non-toxic  outlet  for  their  desire  to 
be  passively  entertained,  that  has  been  mildly 
diverting,  that  has  stirred  their  fancy,  that  has 
sometimes  educated  them.  It  is  a  relaxer,  that 
sweeps  a  man's  own  life  out  of  his  brain  for  a 
while,  and  returns  him  again  to  earth  recreated. 
Deborah  felt  that  it  was  a  somewhat  unintellec- 
tual  thing  to  turn  her  mind  over  to  this  anaes- 
thetic, but  there  was  a  certain  luxury  about  it 
on  that  account.  She  approached  the  beautiful 
female  in  the  glass  enclosure  with  a  five  cent 
piece  in  her  hand. 

Within,  to  her  unaccustomed  eyes,  it  was 
dark  as  the  pit.  There  was  a  brass  rail  some- 
where, and  then,  in  the  dimness,  an  aisle.  She 

118 


MERE  MAN 

groped  her  way  to  a  seat  close  to  the  rear.  On 
the  screen  was  a  square  of  light  where  people  in 
the  moonlight  were  doing  unintelligible  things, 
which  she  comprehended  no  more  than  a  con- 
versation of  which  she  might  hear  the  last  few 
words.  But  there  was  a  soothing  quiet  here. 
The  darkness  was  comforting  and  restful.  The 
tension  to  which  her  body  and  nerves  had  been 
put  all  day  relaxed  slowly,  with  a  luxurious 
sense  of  passing  responsibility.  She  watched 
the  screen  idly.  Of  course  she  did  not  care 
whether  the  gentleman  in  evening  clothes  kissed 
the  lady  in  the  silk  dress.  But  then  she  did  not 
object  to  it.  It  was  pleasant  to  relax  thor- 
oughly, amid  silence  and  darkness,  and  have 
even  the  current  of  her  thoughts  directed  for  her. 
It  was  diverting  not  to  have  to  take  sides — 
not  to  feel  that  she  must  either  sympathize  or 
condemn.  Therefore  when  the  gentleman  in 
the  evening  clothes  and  his  silk  lady  had  pres- 
ently faded  away  and  gone  back  again  into  the 
archives  of  the  gentleman  over  her  head,  she 

was  rather  pleased  than  dismayed  to,  find  the 

119 


MERE  MAN 

title  of  the  next  picture  was  none  other  than 
"Stolen  for  Wedlock."  It  tasted  of  melodrama 
and  of  emotions  delivered  to  the  consumer  as 
the  raw  product,  but  that  was  perfectly  satisfac- 
tory to  her.  In  fact  she  was  a  little  disappointed 
when  it  turned  out  not  to  be  painted  in  the  pri- 
mary colors  that  the  title  suggested.  It  was, 
instead,  one  of  those  painstaking  harkings  back 
to  the  far  past  that  seem  to  be  carried  out  no- 
where so  minutely  as  before  the  cinematograph. 
The  story  was  the  story  of  the  Sabine  women. 
Costume  and  setting  and  the  archaeology  of  the 
subject  were  treated  with  an  almost  too  respect- 
ful deference — an  almost  too  apparent  striving 
for  metallic  accuracy  that  instead  of  creating 
an  illusion  dispelled  it.  But  the  romance  of  the 
story  was  there.  That  is,  indeed  an  indestruc- 
tible fabric. 

There  was  of  course  embroidered  into  it  a 
special  love  story.  There  was  the  one  girl, 
more  beautiful,  naturally,  than  all  the  rest,  who 
escaped  the  throng  of  Roman  youths  who 

swept  down  upon  them,  and  hid  in  an  obscure 

1 20 


MERE  MAN 

spot,  where  they  all  passed  her  by.  All  save 
one.  And  this  one  was  a  great  muscular  fel- 
low, of  the  proportions  of  an  Achilles,  who  up 
to  this  time  had  found  no  wife  to  suit  him  He 
discovered  her,  hiding,  and,  deciding  that  she 
was  satisfactory,  carried  her  off  with  him,  holding 
her  lithe,  slender  body  in  his  sturdy  arms  as  if 
she  were  but  a  child.  She  was  terror-stricken. 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  exclaimed  a  damsel  be- 
hind Deborah,  suddenly,  "  I'd  let  a  man  carry 
me  off  like  that  ?  I'd  slap  him." 

Whereupon  the  Sabine  girl,  almost  as  if 
stung  into  action  by  this  comment,  struggled 
valiantly  for  freedom.  But  the  man  simply 
held  her  firmly  in  his  arms  and  gazed  at  her 
calmly,  until  she  saw  the  futility  of  resistance 
and  lay  there  quiet  and  exhausted.  Then  he 
carried  her  off. 

The  sequel  of  the  story  was  that  she  lived 
with  him  as  his  wife.  She  was  forced  to.  His 
strength  left  no  alternative.  But  he  was  kind 
to  her ;  and,  in  the  end,  she  learned  to  love 

him  for  his  power  and  for  his  domination  over 

121 


MERE  MAN 

her,  as  well  as  for  his  fine  character.  After 
the  picture  was  finished,  Deborah  sat  for  a  few 
moments.  Then  she  rose  and  went  out  upon 
the  street. 

"  Most  women  are  like  that,"  she  said,  "  espe- 
cially I  myself.  I  am  a  true  Sabine." 

She  sat  in  her  room  half  an  hour  later.  Miss 
Howell  came  bustling  in,  loaded  down  with  an 
armful  of  tiny  packages,  which  gave  her  the 
appearance  of  having  bought  twenty  spools 
of  cotton  and  had  them  wrapped  separately. 
These  packages  she  set  down  absently  in  vari- 
ous obscure  places.  Her  hat  and  coat  and 
gloves  she  took  off  and  threw  down  with  per- 
fect abandon.  In  the  morning  she  would 
doubtless  wonder  why  one  glove  would  be 
discovered  inside  a  pillow-case  and  the  other 
in  the  bottom  bureau  drawer.  Like  a  presti- 
digitator she  talked  all  the  time  as  if  with  the 
purpose  of  distracting  your  attention  from  these 
little  feats  of  legerdemain. 

"  Oh,"    she    cried,    suddenly,    "  I    forgot    all 

about  it.     How  did  your  hearing  come  off  ?  " 
122 


MERE  MAN 

"  Fine,"  returned  Deborah.  "  Listen  to  me, 
Jane.  Were  these  Sabine  women  you  read 
about  in  history  real  people,  or  was  that  a 
fable  ?  " 

"  What  a  question.     Why,  they  were  real." 

"You  don't  think  it  was  meant  as  an  alle- 
gory?" observed  the  other,  thoughtfully.  "You 
know  what  I  mean,  typifying  the  fact  that 
sooner  or  later  some  great,  big,  strong  man  is 
coming  along  for  every  woman  to  carry  her  off." 

"  I  never  heard  it  spoken  of  that  way.  What 
are  you  driving  at  anyway,  Deborah  ?  " 

"  I'm  striving  to  get  your  opinion,"  returned 
Deborah,  smiling.  "You  know  I  have  been 
thinking  a  great  deal  about  the  sphere  of 
woman  lately.  And  sometimes  I  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  is  only  one  sphere  for 
woman — and  that's  to  be  contented  to  be  a 
woman." 

"  Every  one  is — isn't  she  ? "  Miss  Howell 
was  a  little  bewildered. 

Deborah  shook  her  head. 

"  No.     I  have  it  dinned  into  me  that  woman 
123 


MERE  MAN 

is  indistinguishable  from  man,  that  she  must 
live  like  him,  and  have  all  his  privileges.  For 
this  some  of  them  even  go  so  far  as  to  say 
they  will  be  willing  to  give  up  the  privileges 
they  now  possess  as  women." 

"  Now,  I  had  a  cousin  in  Michigan " 

Deborah  put  an  arm  around  her  shoulder. 

"Just  a  moment,  Jane,  before  this  biography 
begins.  I  have  something  on  my  mind." 

Jane  looked  at  her  full  in  the  eyes. 

"  Deborah,  are  you  in  love  ?  " 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  be  in  love.  I 
signed  a  paper  saying  I  wouldn't." 

Jane  brightened. 

"But  suppose  this  great,  strong  man  you 
say  comes  into  every  woman's  life  comes  into 
yours.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

The  other  stretched  out  her  arms. 

"That's  it  What  was  the  answer  to  that 
old  problem  of  an  irresistible  force  meeting  an 
immovable  object  ?  " 

She  looked  amusedly  at  her  companion  and 

going  over  to  the  closet  began  to  rummage 
124 


ARE    YOU    IN    LOVE 


MERE  MAN 

amidst  a  terminal  moraine  composed  of  Jane's 
shoe-trees,  bedroom  slippers,  overshoes,  polish- 
ing outfit,  old  letters  and  a  score  of  things  that 
lady  had  been  hunting  for  for  the  past  week,  in 
search  of  a  pair  of  pumps. 

"What  is  it  that  is  on  your  mind?"  de- 
manded Jane. 

"  Nothing,  nothing  1 "  replied  Deborah,  on 
her  knees  in  the  closet.  "  But  did  you  ever 
feel,  Jane,  as  though  you  were  going  two  ways 
at  once  ?  " 

"  That's  one  of  the  symptoms  of  intoxication, 
isn't  it?"  demanded  the  other,  seriously. 

Her  companion  laughed,  and  dragged  out 
her  shoes. 

"  Not  quite,"  she  said,  slipping  her  feet  into 
the  soft  leather  things.  "  It's  the  difference  be- 
tween what  your  mind  wants  to  do  and  what 
the  atom  inside  you  wants  to  do.  You  can 
figure  a  thing  out  very  minutely  and  thor- 
oughly in  your  mind  and  decide  on  the  direc- 
tion you  intend  to  go,  but  suddenly  you  find 

there  is  something  in  your  nature  that  holds 

125 


MERE  MAN 

your  feet  to  the  ground  so  you  cannot  take  a 
step.  I  have  been  trying  to  make  myself  view 
the  world  as  if  I  were  a  man  and  I  find  in  the 
end  I  am  a  woman." 

"  Why,  Deborah,  are  you  going  to  turn  anti- 
suffrage  ?  " 

Deborah  fumbled  absently  among  the  things 
in  her  bureau  drawer. 

"  I  am  going  to  turn  nothing,"  she  said.  "  I 
intend  to  go  through  to  the  finish  as  I  started 
out.  If  there  is  something  stronger  in  me  that 
takes  my  own  personal  interest  out  of  the  cause, 
that  is  no  reason  to  back  water.  The  cause  is 
the  same  and  I  am  in  it  to  stay." 

Jane  looked  at  her  companion  with  transpar- 
ent astuteness. 

"  Do  you  regret  your  celibacy  pledge?"  she 
asked. 

Deborah  laughed  and  took  from  the  drawer 
a  cascade  of  lace  to  put  at  her  throat. 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  she  asked. 

Jane  glanced  at  her  watch,  and  forgot  the 

conversation. 

126 


MERE  MAN 

"  Mercy  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  if  I  am  going  out 
to-night,  I  must  hurry  to  dinner.  Where  is  my 
pocketbook?  I  have  to  pay  Mrs.  Prouty." 

"  Right  there  in  the  waste  paper  basket,  to- 
gether with  the  rest  of  the  things  you  just 
threw  into  it,"  sighed  Deborah. 

Jane  smiled  happily  and  stewed  about  with 
an  air  of  great  haste,  gathering  together  all  the 
things  she  thought  she  might  need,  like  a  man 
preparing  for  a  dash  to  the  Pole.  Finally,  the 
door  closed  behind  her,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
gone.  But  that  was  a  mere  figment  of  the  im- 
agination. In  a  moment  there  she  stood  again 
in  the  doorway.  Perhaps  it  was  her  astral  self 
projected  there  by  some  miraculous  piece  of 
metaphysics.  But  no. 

"  I  have  forgotten  my  pocketbook  after  all," 
she  said. 

It  was  the  real,  flesh  and  blood  Jane  1 

"  Do  you  know,  Deborah,"  she  cried,  look- 
ing in  the  purse  anxiously,  "there  ought  to 
be  six  dollars  in  here  instead  of  five.  I'll  tell 

you  why.     When  I  bought  my  green  veil  yes- 

127 


MERE  MAN 

terday — you  know  the  ones  we  saw  in  the  win- 
dow for  ninety-eight  cents — the  girl  gave  me  a 
five  dollar  bill,  three  ones,  a  fifty  cent  piece,  a 
quarter,  two  ten  cent  pieces,  a  nickel  and  two 
pennies.  Then  I  went  into  Stein's  and  gave  the 
man  a  dollar  and  one  of  the  fifty  cent  pieces 
and  the  change  he  gave  me " 

Deborah  arose  quickly. 

"  If  you  start  to  tell  me  about  all  the  change 
you  were  given  yesterday,  Jane  dear,  you  will 
never  get  your  dinner." 

"But  I  wanted  to  explain  why  I  ought  to 
have  another  dollar,"  objected  the  other,  wor- 
ried. 

"  Go  get  your  dinner,"  counseled  Deborah. 
"  It  will  all  come  to  you  as  an  inspiration." 

Finally  she  was  gone.  Deborah  sat  in  her 
chair  by  the  window.  She  would  go  to  her 
dinner  later.  She  did  not  feel  that  she  could 
listen  to  the  pompous  compliments  of  the 
Colonel  or  the  idle  chatter  of  Mr.  Derry.  She 
would  go  down  when  they  had  gone.  It  is  true 

that  her  coffee  would  be  cold  then,  as  would  be 

128 


MERE  MAN 

the  tiny  scraps  of  vegetables  in  the  dishes  ;  and 
perhaps  the  meat  would  be  entirely  gone.  But 
sometimes  one  has  to  sacrifice  bodily  comfort  to 
peace  of  mind.  It  occurred  to  her  that  what 
she  would  really  like  would  be  a  dinner  some- 
where where  there  was  a  stiff  white  cloth  on  the 
table  with  the  folds  straight  and  sharp  as  a  knife 
edge,  candles  on  the  table,  music  far  enough  off 
not  to  interfere  with  the  pleasure  of  eating  yet 
audible  enough  to  give  the  idea  of  festivity. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  advisable  to  have  them 
play  Shubert's  Serenade.  Oysters  flavored  with 
Shubert  have  more  the  feeling  of  lyrical  cry, 
more  that  touch  of  subtle  melancholy  which  is 
part  of  the  nature  of  the  animal.  Then  there 
would  be  food  brought  in  under  great  silver 
covers,  preserving  the  air  of  mystery  as  to  its 
identity — the  air  of  uncertainty  that  piques  the 
palate.  If  you  allow  yourself  to  reflect  that  the 
personage  masquerading  under  the  alias  of  the 
Duke  of  Filet  Mignon  Rudesheimer  is  no  one 
but  plain  old  Mr.  Tenderloin,  it  spoils  the  whole 

setting.    All   this  Deborah  reflected  would  be 

129 


MERE  MAN 

much  more  satisfactory  than  sitting  at  Mrs. 
Prouty's  table,  where  the  napkin  she  had  used 
yesterday  at  dinner  lay  at  her  place  clutched  in 
a  clothes-pin  on  which  was  written  her  name, 
where  on  the  wall  opposite  her  was  a  lithograph 
of  a  basket  of  fruit,  wrinkled  in  its  frame  as  if  it 
had  been  exposed  to  the  weather  or  defective 
plumbing  pipes,  and  where  her  plate  careened 
like  a  vessel  at  sea  because  her  place  was  just 
at  that  subtle  point  where  the  tables  which 
formed  Mrs.  Prouty's  festive  board  joined.  Per- 
haps it  would  be  more  enjoyable  to-night  for 
her  to  get  her  dinner  at  a  little  restaurant  down- 
town. 

She  reached  for  her  book,  and  putting  her 
feet  upon  the  chair  before  her,  in  an  unladylike 
but  thoroughly  comfortable  manner,  settled  her- 
self to  read.  The  glint  of  the  rising  moon  fell 
on  the  window  sill.  She  read  no  word  in  the 
book,  but  let  it  lay  comfortably  in  her  lap,  a 
treasure-house  to  be  consulted  when  the  spirit 
moved  her.  She  gazed  out  upon  the  white 
circle  in  the  sky  ;  and  as  she  looked  she  saw  the 

130 


MERE  MAN 

shadow  of  her  own  head  cast  by  the  gas  light 
on  the  brick  wall  opposite.  She  smiled  won- 
dering if  a  certain  gentleman  could  have  recog- 
nized her  by  that  silhouette. 

Suddenly  she  sat  rigid,  still  listening. 

Of  course  it  could  not  be  a  footstep  on  the 
roof  crunching  the  pebbles.  It  would  have  been 
impossible  for  her  to  have  heard  such  a  thing 
through  the  thickness  of  the  roof  and  height  of 
the  attic  space.  Besides,  it  was  quite  imma- 
terial to  her  if  it  were  the  crunching  of  a  foot- 
step. If  they  were  the  footsteps  of  Mr.  John 
Lea,  he  was  beyond  her  horizon.  He  repre- 
sented several  things  she  was  sailing  with  all 
speed  away  from.  Her  duty  and  self-respect — 
her  manhood,  she  was  about  to  tell  herself — re- 
quired her  to  put  space  between  her  and  this 
man.  He  was  the  gulf  stream  that  carried  her 
out  of  her  course.  Farewell,  Mr.  Lea. 

She  took  up  her  book.  There  was  a  strange 
tapping  at  the  window  where  she  sat.  She  lis- 
tened. The  tapping  continued.  She  raised 
the  window  and  there,  hanging  by  a  string, 


MERE  MAN 

suspended  from  heaven,  was  a  white  piece  of 
paper  rolled  into  a  little  cylinder  and  swinging 
against  the  glass. 

"  Dear   Miss   Carver,"  it  said,  "  to-night  the 
moon  is  full." 


132 


CHAPTER  XI 

TO-NIGHT  the  moon  was  full ! 
She  held  the  paper  in  her  hand.  She 
had  never  seen  his  handwriting  before,  with  its 
small  upright  characters  carefully  made,  and  the 
whole  sentence  arranged  neatly  on  the  sheet. 
It  was  an  exciting  event.  But  suppose  the 
moon  were  full  ? 

She  rose  and  went  to  the  palsied  table  that 
served  her  as  a  desk.  With  her  pencil  in  her 
hand  she  stood  irresolute,  and  her  eye  wandered 
to  the  tightly-closed  trap-door  over  her  bureau. 
She  shook  her  head  and  leaning  over  the  table 
wrote  beneath  his  sentence. 

"  Isn't  it  beautiful  ?  "  she  wrote.  "  I  love  to  sit 
in  this  warm  spot  and  watch  it." 

She  fastened  this  to  the  dangling  string, 
whereupon  it  disappeared  immediately.  She 
settled  herself  again  in  her  chair  and  propped 
her  feet  upon  the  one  before  her. 

133 


MERE  MAN 

"  I  shall  not  take  them  down,"  she  asserted, 
"  until  he  has  gone  from  the  roof." 

She  read  a  page  of  print — that  is,  her  eyes 
performed  that  duty  for  her.  But  had  there 
been  any  great  message  of  truth  on  that  page 
— as  there  must  be  on  every  page  of  every 
really  important  book,  since  Mr.  H.  G.  Wells 
has  brought  forth  the  theorem  that  it  is  sinful 
to  write  a  book  which  amuses  people — it  was 
lost  upon  her ;  and  probably  she  will  never 
again  have  a  chance  to  make  up  that  loss. 
Her  mind — whose  nimble  feet  rested  on  no  re- 
straining chair — was  on  the  roof  in  the  moon- 
light. 

A  long  pause.  She  heard  no  sound  above  as 
of  footsteps  retreating.  Then  again  the  swing- 
ing thing  appeared  and  tapped  upon  her  window 
pane.  She  watched  it  interestedly  as  it  swung 
there,  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap.  After  a 
little  while  she  reached  out  and  took  it  in  her 
hand. 

"  Try  a  coat,"  said  the  paper.  "  Will  you 
come  ?  " 

134 


MERE  MAN 

"  No,"  she  wrote  beneath  it  and  tied  it  again 
to  the  string. 

She  waited  for  him  to  go  away.  He  did  not 
go  away.  The  string  descended  again. 

"  Dinner  together,"  it  suggested.  "  I  know 
of  a  warm  place  with  an  artificial  moon  in  the 
ceiling." 

"  Thank  you,  no,"  she  wrote.  "  I  have  been 
brought  up  to  hate  artificial  moons." 

It  is  impossible  to  estimate  what  pangs  that 
reply  cost  her.  Here  was  her  chance  to  have 
white  table-cloths  and  Shubert's  Serenade  with 
oysters.  But  her  two  feet  moved  not  an  inch 
upon  the  chair  before  her. 

Again  the  string  descended. 

"  I  will  wait  for  you  by  the  street  corner,"  it 
said.  "  You  may  choose  your  own  moon." 

She  returned  it  without  comment. 

His  retreating  footsteps  crunched  upon  the 
gravel.  He  was  gone.  It  rather  accentuated 
the  humor  of  the  situation  that  he  should  be 
waiting  for  her  at  the  street  corner.  That  made 
it  possible  for  her  to  exhibit  her  control  by  re- 

135 


MERE  MAN 

straining  her  impulses  for  half  an  hour  longer. 
It  would  be  too  late  then  to  go  to  dinner. 
What  did  that  matter  ?  She  would  do  without 
dinner.  She  would  put  temptation  behind  her. 

She  kicked  off  her  pumps  and  unfastened  the 
hooks  of  her  dress,  which  presently  lay  in  a  circle 
about  her  feet.  It  had  been  many  a  day  since 
she  had  been  sent  to  bed  without  her  supper. 
She  thought  grimly  that  it  was  the  best  discipline 
for  her. 

"  If  I  am  dressed  for  bed,"  she  said,  as  she 
hung  her  clothes  in  the  closet,  "  I  shall  certainly 
meet  no  man  on  the  street  corner  to-night." 

She  thrust  her  bare  feet  into  slippers  and  drew 
on  her  kimono.  She  felt  safe  now. 

Mrs.  Prouty  appears  at  the  door. 

"  Are  you  ill,  Miss  Carver  ?  "  she  exclaims. 

"  No." 

"  You  did  not  come  down  to  your  dinner.  I 
am  worried  about  you.  You  are  sure  you  are 
not  ill?" 

"  Perfectly  sure." 

"  Though  I  don't  know  why  you  are  not  ill. 
136 


MERE  MAN 

Think  of  a  girl  signing  a  pledge  not  to  get 
married.  I  am  a  plain  woman  " — this  was  un- 
doubtedly true,  Mrs.  Prouty's  face  not  having 
been  designed  as  a  decoration — "  but  /  say  that 
a  woman's  place  in  life  is  to  marry  and  have  chil- 
dren. All  these  suffragists,  and  feminists  and 
old-maidists  are  not  natural.  I  believe  in  a 
woman  being  advanced  in  her  thoughts,  but  I 
say  she  oughtn't  to  turn  her  back  on  the  duties 
the  Lord  laid  down  for  her." 

"  You  are  not  modern  enough,  Mrs.  Prouty. 
The  Lord  laid  down  some  duties  for  some 
women  and  other  duties  for  others.  I  am  help- 
ing in  a  great  movement  for  the  benefit  of  all 
women." 

"  Don't  tell  me  !  "  said  Mrs.  Prouty.  "  The 
greatest  advantage  about  the  suffrage  is  the  ex- 
citement of  getting  it." 

Deborah  smiled. 

"When  my  youngest  son,"  went  on  Mrs. 
Prouty,  "  was  a  boy,  he  always  harped  on  getting 
a  rocking-horse.  Nothing  would  do  but  he 
must  have  a  rocking-horse.  It  was  rocking- 

137 


MERE  MAN 

horse,  rocking-horse,  day  and  night  until  he  got 
it.  And  then  he  rocked  on  it  a  few  times  and 
at  the  end  of  a  week  he  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  it.  That's  the  way  I  say  the  women 
are  going  to  be  with  this  suffrage  question." 

Mrs.  Prouty  at  length  disappeared,  as  all 
Mrs.  Prouty s  will  in  the  course  of  time.  Deb- 
orah thought  of  the  man  outside.  The  clock 
on  her  bureau  said  half-past  seven.  How  long 
would  he  wait  on  the  street  corner?  It  had 
been  a  half  hour  now  since  he  had  left  the  roof. 
Surely  he  would  not  wait  much  longer. 

Presently  one  of  the  other  boarders  in  the 
house  rapped  on  the  door  and  said  some  one 
wanted  to  speak  to  her  on  the  telephone.  Her 
heart  gave  a  bound.  But  he  could  not  be  tele- 
phoning, for  he  did  not  know  Mrs.  Prouty's 
name.  The  telephone  was  in  the  dark  space  at 
the  foot  of  the  stair.  She  pattered  down,  her 
heart  full  of  excitement.  But  it  was  not  John 
Lea.  Instead  it  was  Bobby  Mitchell. 

"  Listen,  Debby,"  said  he,  "  what  are  you  do- 
ing?" 

138 


MERE  MAN 

There  was  a  caress  in  every  sentence  Bobby 
spoke  to  a  girl.  He  stroked  her  with  his  con- 
versation. 

"  Principally  nothing,"  responded  Deborah, 
not  feeling  it  advisable  to  tell  him  exactly. 

"  Let's  go  somewhere." 

She  laughed. 

"  I  can't,"  she  cried.  "  I — I  haven't  had  my 
dinner  yet." 

This  was  a  good  excuse. 

"That's  me.  We'll  go  together,"  replied 
Bobby,  promptly. 

Deborah  gasped. 

"  Bobby,  one  dinner  is  enough  for  you." 

"  I  can  get  along  with  it,  but  two  is  better  for 
me." 

"  You're  perfectly  silly." 

"  How  about  that  ?     Is  it  a  go  ?  " 

She  hesitated. 

"  I  have  to  eat,"  she  said  at  length.  "  Well, 
all  right." 

"  Bully.     I'll  be  there  in  thirteen  minutes." 

Deborah  hung  up  her  receiver. 
139 


MERE  MAN 

"  I  wish  I  hadn't  done  that,"  she  said. 

She  went  up  to  her  room  and  tore  into  her 
clothes.  There  hung  the  string  dangling  be- 
side her  window.  Why  hadn't  she  gone  with 
him  when  he  had  asked  her  ?  It  was  her  pride. 
She  had  been  afraid  to  acknowledge  that  she 
was  a  Sabine.  She  had  been  afraid  to  acknowl- 
edge that  she  had  wanted  to  go  with  him.  That 
act  would  not  have  brought  confusion  upon  the 
whole  suffragist  cause.  Nor  would  it  have 
proved  what  she  feared  in  her  heart,  that  for 
once  she  had  found  a  person  whose  wish  she 
was  only  too  willing  to  follow. 

She  turned  low  her  light  and  stumbled  down 
the  dark  stairs.  It  was  almost  time  for  Bobby 
to  arrive.  She  sat  on  the  hall-seat  in  the  dim, 
religious  light. 

"  I  hope  he  doesn't  come,"  she  said. 

She  went  out  upon  the  front  steps  to  look  for 
him.  No  machine  was  in  sight.  The  streets  to 

north  and  south  were  empty,  except She 

stood  perfectly  rigid  on  the  steps.  Beneath  the 

lamp  at  the  street  corner,  his  cane  tucked  un- 

140 


MERE  MAN 

der  his  arm,  his  hands  thrust  deep  into  his 
pockets,  his  head  bent,  paced  John  Marshall 
Lea,  with  true  Mohammedan  patience,  waiting. 
She  stared  at  him.  Her  eyes  filled.  She  stood 
for  a  moment  hesitating — and  then  ran  into  the 
house. 

"  Mrs.  Prouty,"  she  said  to  that  person  com- 
ing down  the  stairs,  "  if  Mr.  Mitchell  comes, 
tell  him — I  couldn't  wait.  I  will  explain  to  him 
later." 

She  closed  the  door  and  ran  lightly  down  the 
steps.  She  hurried  along  the  sidewalk  to  the 
corner  and  laying  her  fingers  on  the  soft  woolly 
fabric  of  his  coat  sleeve,  said  : 

"  And  where  shall  we  go  ? " 


141 


CHAPTER  XII 

HE  turned  toward  her.  An  expression  of 
surprised  wonder  lit  up  his  face.  He 
held  out  his  hand  and  she  felt  his  slender  fingers 
clasp  hers  in  a  firm  grip. 

"  The  same  moon,"  he  observed,  waving  his 
other  hand  with  a  smile  toward  the  sky,  "  that 
we  were  speaking  of." 

She  looked  up  at  the  circle  thoughtfully. 

"  I  thought,"  she  said,  "  you  would  have 
grown  tired  and  be  gone  by  now." 

"  And  peradventure  I  should,"  he  returned, 
"  in  the  course  of  another  hour  or  so." 

She  glanced  at  him  with  an  unaccustomed 
shyness  and  laughed. 

"Your  first  question  to  me,"  he  went  on, 
"  which  I  do  not  as  yet  seem  to  have  found 
time  to  answer,  was  as  to  where  we  should  go. 
Have  you  any  preference  ?  " 

"  None  at  all." 

142 


MERE  MAN 

A  taxicab  turned  the  corner  and  rolled  down 
the  street  with  an  air  of  uninhabited  loneliness. 
Lea  made  a  sign  with  his  cane  and  the  car 
stopped  at  the  curb.  Deborah  stepped  in. 

"  Congress  Hall,"  he  said,  addressing  the 
driver.  "  I  hope  you  don't  mind,"  he  contin- 
ued, when  he  sat  beside  her,  "a  hotel  away 
down  there  on  the  shores  of  the  Caribbean  Sea. 
They  have  jolly  things  to  eat." 

"  I  prefer  it  to  be  a  little  secluded.  I  feel  as 
if  I  were  doing  an  adventurous  thing  in  appear- 
ing coolly  in  public  with  you." 

"  Never  mind.  I'll  wager  Molly  Pitcher  used 
to  meet  Lord  Cornwallis  for  a  quiet  dinner  oc- 
casionally when  no  one  was  looking.  All  you 
great  women  of  history  have  to  have  your  fling." 

She  smiled. 

"  You  did  not  tell  me,"  she  observed,  irrele- 
vantly, "  that  there  was  a  circle  around  our 
moon.  It  is  going  to  snow." 

"  Let  the  blizzard  come — now  that  you  are 
safely  here." 

"  Why  did  you  want  to  see  me  ? "  she  asked, 
143 


MERE  MAN 

glancing  curiously  at  him  out  of  the  corners  of 
her  eyes. 

"  Why,  indeed  ?  "  he  returned.  "  Isn't  a  con- 
gressman to  be  allowed  sunshine  in  his  life  ?  I 
had  to  see  you.  It  was  a  natural  law,  like  the 
law  of  gravitation." 

A  faint  flush  came  out  on  her  cheeks 

"  Why  was  it  so  imperative — just  now  ?  "  she 
murmured. 

He  looked  at  her  smiling. 

"  All  my  life,"  he  said,  half  to  himself,  "  seems 
to  be  just  now." 

The  machine  drew  up  at  a  porte-cochere. 

"  The  port  of  entry,"  he  announced,  "  of  the 
Caribbean  Sea." 

Within,  they  sat  down  at  the  identical  table 
she  had  thought  about,  with  folds  in  the  snowy 
cloth  straight  and  sharp.  And  when  the  defer- 
ential Ganymede,  with  his  book,  bent  over  Mr. 
Lea,  she  was  thrilled  to  hear  the  exciting  mys- 
teries he  was  directed  to  write  on  the  sheet. 

"  I  am  thoroughly  excited,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  One  of  the   greatest   pleasures,"  he  said, 

144 


MERE  MAN 

"  of  being1  young  and  twenty-six,  is  the  still-re- 
maining talent  you  have  to  give  yourself  over 
to  high  spirits." 

"  Young  and  twenty-six,"  she  exclaimed,  as 
though  she  would  call  attention  to  the  contrast 
of  the  words.  But  for  the  first  time  in  a  long 
while  she  felt  the  blood  in  her  veins  was  in- 
deed young. 

A  clock  somewhere  was  striking  eight  when 
the  advance  guard  of  their  dinner  bore  down 
upon  them.  If  it  is  ill-bred  to  be  hungry,  Deb- 
orah was  in  very  bad  form  that  night.  She 
confessed  to  him  presently  that  such  a  dinner 
had  been  the  thing  she  was  thinking  of  when 
she  should  have  been  sitting  at  Mrs.  Prouty's 
board. 

"  And  when  I  asked  her,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  she  cried  '  No '  as  briskly  as  she  could  1 " 

She  bent  over  her  plate. 

"  Don't  you  know  what  a  woman's  '  No '  is 
said  to  mean  ?  "  she  murmured,  without  look- 
ing up. 

"  Until  this  moment  I  didn't.  But  in  the  fu- 
H5 


MERE  MAN 

ture  I  shall  remember  it.  I  may  need  to  re- 
member it,"  he  added. 

He  looked  at  her  steadily.  She  raised  her 
eyes  until  they  met  his. 

"  But  sometimes,"  she  said,  smiling  sweetly, 
"  it  means  '  No.'  " 

"  Doubtless — if  a  fellow  could  but  determine 
when." 

Presently  a  tall,  distinguished  gentleman, 
whose  features  were  strangely  familiar  to  Deb- 
orah, perhaps  from  having  seen  them  repro- 
duced in  the  papers,  rose  from  a  table  near 
them.  It  was  hard  to  tell  in  what  the  distinc- 
tion of  him  lay.  There  was  a  carelessness 
about  his  dress,  as  though  that  were  one  of  the 
smaller  things  in  life  he  found  not  quite  enough 
time  to  care  for.  The  distinction  was  perhaps 
in  the  softness  of  his  eye  and  the  firmness  of 
his  mouth,  Deborah  would  have  taken  him 
for  a  great  man  anywhere. 

He  glanced  about  him,  and  when  his  eye  fell 
upon  her  companion,  he  smiled,  with  a  frank 

air  of  pleasure.     Deborah's  heart  beat  faster 

146 


MERE  MAN 

with  a  violent  pride  she  could  not  suppress  for 
the  man  before  her.  The  distinguished  gentle- 
man came  to  their  table,  holding  out  his  hand 
to  Lea.  When  Lea  introduced  him  to  her,  she 
found  he  was  indeed  the  great  man  she  had 
supposed  he  was. 

"  I  imagine  Mr.  Lea  is  endeavoring  to  poison 
your  mind  against  the  doctrine  of  equal  suf- 
frage," he  said,  with  a  smile  that  had  a  frank 
and  boyish  sweetness  in  it. 

Her  companion  answered  for  her. 

"  No,"  he  exclaimed,  "  a  long,  bitter  '  no.'  " 

11 1  am  of  the  other  persuasion,"  she  said. 

"  Ah  1 "  returned  their  visitor,  "  I  sympathize 
with  you.  I  once  said  in  a  speech  that  women 
did  not  need  to  vote  so  much  as  the  country 
needed  to  have  them  vote." 

"  There,"  cried  Deborah,  darting  her  com- 
panion a  look  with  an  air  of  triumph  she  could 
not  help  thinking  even  then  was  almost  con- 
jugal. She  did  not  see  the  Great  Man  glance 
at  her  keenly,  as  though  he  were  trying  to  de- 
cide something. 

H7 


MERE  MAN 

"  See,  Miss  Carver,  he's  dumb.  He  has  no 
argument  against  us.  What  do  you  think  of 
it,  Lea?  Didn't  I  strike  the  nail  on  the  head  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  returned  Lea,  smiling. 

The  other  drew  out  a  chair  and  sat  down. 

"  You  don't  agree  with  me  ?" 

"  Your  statement  is  too  poetic.  It  throws  a 
rose-glow  over  the  question,  whereas  what  it 
really  needs  is  white  daylight.  The  advocates 
of  this  cause  have  something  to  prove.  If  they 
represent  it  to  all  women  as  a  duty  and  a  means 
of  obtaining  absolute  results,  they  must  prove 
that  to  them.  The  test  of  their  case  is  whether 
the  women  themselves  support  it.  Then  we  can 
legislate.  At  present,  what  data  have  I  as  to 
what  the  women  want  when  I  am  asked  to  vote 
on  an  equal  suffrage  amendment?" 

The  Great  Man  smiled.     Lea  began  to  laugh. 

"  There  are  some  things  concerning  women," 
he  went  on,  "  upon  which  I  think  Congress 
could  legislate  without  such  data.  They  might 
with  propriety  pass  a  law  that  no  woman's 

gown  should  have  more  than  twenty-four  hooks 
148 


MERE  MAN 

and  eyes  up  the  back,  for  most  congressmen 
have  to  fasten  their  wives'  dresses.  All  the 
data  in  that  case  is  at  their  finger-tips,  so  to 
speak.  But  not  so  the  suffrage." 

"  Isn't  it  the  duty  of  Congress,  then,  to  find 
out  about  it  ?  "  asked  the  Great  Man. 

Lea's  eyes  brightened. 

"  I  think  so.  I  have  prepared  a  bill  I  shall 
one  day  introduce  into  Congress  which  provides 
that  women  shall  once  a  year  vote  upon  the 
question  of  the  suffrage.  When  a  majority 
favors  it,  the  suffrage  is  to  become  a  law.  If  no 
majority  favors  it  after  five  votes,  the  matter 
will  be  dropped  and  the  people  in  the  country 
allowed  to  rest  and  recuperate." 

Deborah  laughed. 

"He  speaks  of  the  question  as  if  it  were  the 
great  London  plague." 

Their  visitor  rose. 

"  You  and  I  have  to  smile,  Miss  Carver,  at 
the  way  it  has  undermined  his  reason.  How- 
ever, upon  all  other  questions  I  feel  he  is  a  re- 
markable young  man." 

149 


MERE  MAN 

He  shook  hands  with  them  both.  Then  turn- 
ing to  her  with  a  quizzical  smile,  he  said : 

"  I  am  sure  I  shouldn't  worry  about  what  he 
said  on  the  subject  of  the  twenty-four  hooks  and 
eyes.  I  scarcely  think  he  means  it." 

He  bowed  gravely  and  took  his  departure. 

For  some  reason  Deborah  blushed  red  as  the 
flowers  before  her. 


ISO 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHEN  they  came  out  upon  the  pavement 
it  was  snowing.  The  white  flakes  swirled 
along  the  street.  The  automobiles,  drawn  up 
at  the  curb,  were  covered  with  a  thin  layer  of 
white.  In  the  angle  of  the  wall  chauffeurs  stood, 
their  fur  collars  drawn  up  about  their  ears. 
There  was  in  the  air  the  pleasant  silence  that 
comes  with  falling  snow.  As  she  looked  up  the 
flakes  seemed  to  come  suddenly  out  of  nowhere 
at  all. 

"  We  had  best  go  in,"  said  he,  "  until  I  can  get 
a  machine." 

But  she  ran  quickly  down  the  steps. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  cried.  "  I  want  to  walk  a 
little." 

Out  from  beneath  the  shelter  of  the  marquise, 
the  falling  flakes  dropped  upon  her  upturned 
face  and  her  hair.  Her  twenty-six  years  became 


MERE  MAN 

thirteen  at  the  touch  of  it.  Will  the  memory 
of  that  childish  ecstasy  that  was  once  wont  to 
appear  simultaneously  with  the  first  fall  of  snow 
ever  vanish  entirely  from  us  ? 

The  white  things  began  industriously  to  build 
a  superimposed  dome  upon  Lea's  hat.  Their 
shoulders  and  the  fronts  of  their  coats  were 
powdered  as  if  they  were  some  baker's  products 
dusted  with  sugar.  As  they  walked  they  kicked 
little  storms  of  snow  before  them. 

The  office  building  of  the  House,  cold  and 
white,  with  the  still  whiter  high  light  of  the 
storm  on  its  balustrades  and  sills,  threw  a  warm 
yellow  light  from  its  windows  on  the  lacy 
covering  that  lay  without.  The  Library  of 
Congress,  a-sprinkle  with  lights  behind  the  net- 
work of  trees,  reared  its  gilt  dome  indistinctly 
through  the  flurrying  snow.  The  myriad  of 
tree  branches  gathered  snow,  evergreens  thrust 
their  heads  solemnly  into  white  cowls,  know- 
ing all  the  while  they  were  no  better  than  just 
ordinary  trees,  the  homely  copings  and  posts 

of  the  Capitol  grounds  took  on  a  coat  of  ermine 

152 


MERE  MAN 

and  stood  transformed  like  the  ugly  duckling 
of  old. 

The  whitened  terraces  of  the  Capitol  were  as 
deserted  as  if  no  man's  foot  had  ever  trod 
there.  She  stood  for  a  moment  looking  up  at 
the  west  front.  The  snow  clung  here  and  there 
in  patches  to  the  gray  stonework  of  the  end 
wing,  but  found  no  lodgment  on  the  smoothly- 
painted  surfaces  of  the  old  centre  portion,  which 
shone  very  white  in  the  diffused  light  of  the 
hidden  moon.  The  great  dome  reared  itself  to 
impossible  heights  through  the  falling  flakes 
until  its  white-crested  statue  lost  itself  against 
the  sky. 

"  All  this,"  she  said,  "  was  built  so  you  might 
have  a  seat  in  there." 

He  nodded  smiling.  She  stopped  by  the 
broad  balustrade  and  wrote : 

John  Marshall  Lea, 

Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives. 

He  laughed  good-humoredly. 
"  The  snow,"  he  said,  "  is  more  truthful.     It 
is  beginning  already  to  erase  the  statement." 

153 


MERE  MAN 

She  looked  at  the  balustrade. 

"  Do  you  often,"  she  asked,  "  come  out  and 
walk  on  this  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  afraid." 

"I'm  not." 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  raised 
herself  to  the  broad,  flat  surface.  He  held  the 
hand  as  he  would  a  child's  and  walked  beside 
her,  captivated  by  her  youth.  The  spirit  of  it 
was  contagious.  The  hand  carried  a  not  quite 
understood  emotion  down  to  him,  as  though 
that  contact  had  completed  a  circuit  that  had 
long  been  broken. 

She  smiled  at  him.  It  seemed  then  as  if  the 
rest  of  the  world  had  purposely  left  them  alone 
there  in  this  place  which  hundreds  of  people 
crowded  daily  and  which  now  was  left  solely  to 
them.  The  Capitol  of  the  United  States  was 
their  possession  for  the  moment.  To  him  it 
seemed,  in  a  fine  exhilaration,  as  if  the  whole 
world  was  theirs.  She  appeared  to  feel  what  was 
in  his  mind.  She  stood  still,  and  leaned  over, 
supporting  herself  with  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

154 


MERE  MAN 

"What  were  you  thinking?"  she  asked, 
gently. 

He  caught  the  hand — both  hands — in  his 
own. 

"I  am  thinking  now,"  he  said,  laughing, 
"that  I  am  in  possession  of  you." 

"  Are  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  looked  up  eagerly. 

"Didn't  you  say  a  moment  ago  that  the  god- 
dess on  the  dome  was  lost  in  the  clouds  ? "  he 
said.  "  I  think  she  is  here." 

She  smiled  down  at  him. 

"  I  like  your  conversation,"  she  cried.  "  I 
must  come  down." 

She  bore  her  weight  on  her  arms  and 
dropped  lightly  to  the  pavement  beside  him. 

"  It  isn't  necessary,"  she  continued,  sweetly, 
looking  calmly  at  him,  her  face  quite  near  to 
him,  "  to  hold  my  hands  now." 

"  It  was  not  necessity,"  he  returned,  calmly, 
"  that  was  the  mother  of  this  inventioh  in  the 
first  place." 

He  placed  her  hands  together  before  her  so 
J55 


MERE  MAN 

that  she  had  the  air  of  Joan  of  Arc  receiving 
the  blessing  of  the  angel,  and  reluctantly  with- 
drew his  own.  There  was  a  moment  of  silence. 
She  stood  there  unmoving,  as  if,  as  she  thought 
to  herself  presently,  she  felt  to  move  would  des- 
troy the  pleasant  memory  of  his  touch.  When 
she  found  herself  thinking  that,  she  moved  im- 
mediately and  destroyed  the  picture. 

"  Apropos  of  nothing,"  he  asked,  "  why  did 
you  make  that  promise  ?  " 

She  understood  perfectly  well  the  promise  he 
referred  to.  So  she  said  : 

"  What  promise  ?  " 

He  smiled. 

"  Had  I  made  such  a  promise,"  he  asserted, 
"  it  would  have  driven  the  thought  of  all  other 
promises  I  might  ever  have  made  forever  from 
my  mind." 

"  Then  I  think,  man-like,  you  refer  to  a  cer- 
tain promise  I  made  relative  to  my  marriage. 
A  mere  trifle." 

She  waved  her  hand  with  a  perfection  of  non- 
chalance, but  she  did  not  look  at  him. 

156 


MERE  MAN 

"  Look  at  me,"  he  said. 

"  It  is  one  of  my  joys,"  she  returned,  bowing 
with  a  mocking  smile. 

"  Look  at  me  and  say  again  what  you  said 
about  the  promise,"  he  persisted. 

She  backed  up  against  the  balustrade,  with 
a  fascinating  air  of  defending  herself.  The  eyes 
that  met  his  held  nothing  but  impudence. 

"  I  told  you  once,"  she  observed  at  length. 

"  But — I  trust  you  will  pardon  me — not  the 
truth." 

"Sir!" 

He  laughed. 

"  Look  at  me  again.     Was  it  true  ?  " 

Her  elbows  rested  gently  on  the  balustrade 
behind  her. 

"I  will  look  at  you  forever,"  she  mur- 
mured, not  doing  so,  "  but  I  answer  no  ques- 
tions." 

"  None  at  all  ?  " 

With  the  toe  of  her  shoe  she  traced  a  pattern 
that  went  impudently  close  to  him  as  he  stood 
there. 

157 


MERE  MAN 

"  Absolutely  none,"  she  said,  presently,  look- 
ing up. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  returned,  "  for  I  had  a  very 
important  one  to  ask." 

She  took  his  cane  from  him  and  began  more 
designs  in  the  snow.  But  she  did  not  answer. 
She  did  not  look  up.  The  snow  fell  gently, 
but  she  was  scarcely  aware  of  it.  He  gazed  at 
her  intently. 

"  I  think  you  know  what  it  is." 

"  I  know  what  it  is  ?  "  she  asked,  studying  in- 
tently the  head  of  his  cane. 

"  I  wish  you  would  look  at  me,"  he  said,  in  a 
low  tone. 

She  tilted  her  chin  up.  All  the  impudence 
was  suddenly  gone.  She  knew  too  well  what 
his  question  would  have  been.  A  subtle  un- 
derstanding carried  the  glorious,  vibrating 
chords  of  the  music  in  his  breast  to  the  very 
vaults  of  her  soul.  The  mist  in  her  eyes  drove 
all  the  impudence  from  them.  The  red  lips, 
once  smiling,  now  quivered  with  tears  that 

seemed  to  rise  in  her  throat. 

158 


MERE  MAN 

He  stood  awed  by  the  force  of  the  storm 
within  him.  And  then  with  no  word,  no  futile 
human  word,  to  express  the  great  gift  of  Heaven 
that  abode  within  him,  solemn  and  glorious  and 
wonderful,  he  closed  his  arms,  like  protecting 
things,  about  her. 

The  wind  blew  the  snow  across  the  silent  ter- 
races of  the  Capitol.  The  noisy,  lighted  city, 
lying  spread  out  there  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
made  no  sound  behind  the  muffling  blanket  of 
falling  snowflakes.  All  was  quiet.  Two  living 
people  inhabited  the  world. 


159 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SHE  broke  from  his  embrace  like  some  start- 
led animal  and  ran  excitedly  along  the  ter- 
race toward  the  steps  that  led  down  to  the 
street.  Her  only  idea,  quickly  formed,  was  to 
escape  him.  She  put  her  wet  glove  to  her  face 
and  brushed  away  impatiently  the  moisture 
from  her  eyes.  She  ran  not  from  the  man  be- 
hind her  but  from  what  was  in  his  heart.  But 
from  what  was  in  her  own  heart  she  could  not 
escape. 

He  followed — but  leisurely,  knowing  with  his 
unerring  perception  what  force  had  broken 
loose  within  her.  But  she  ran  on,  hoping  to 
escape,  carrying,  as  she  was,  all  the  trouble  with 
her.  Down  the  long,  slippery  steps  she  ran, 
scarcely  touching  the  iron  rail  with  her  hand. 
Two  steps  on  the  landing  and  down  the  next 

flight.     At  the  bottom  the  world  seemed  to  slip 

1 60 


MERE  MAN 

from  under  her  and  she  found  herself  suddenly 
sitting  in  the  snow — her  foot,  with  electric  cur- 
rents running  through  it,  bent  under  her. 

Walking  with  much  less  than  her  speed  be- 
hind her,  he  saw  her  fall  and  fear  gave  wings  to 
his  feet.  He  stood  by  her  side. 

"  Don't  touch  me,"  she  cried.  "  Don't  touch 
me,"  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  You're  hurt,"  he  said,  gently. 

"  I'm  not,"  she  exclaimed,  staggering  to  her 
feet. 

She  wavered  pathetically  and  would  have 
fallen  had  he  not  caught  her.  She  held  to 
him. 

"  Just  when  I  want  to  be  miles  from  you  and 
the  sound  of  your  voice,"  she  cried,  bitterly, 
"  here  I  am,  a  foolish  cripple." 

He  tore  off  his  coat  and  spread  it  on  the  steps. 

"  Sit  on  that,"  he  said,  with  a  roughness  that 
gave  her  confidence.  She  sat  upon  it. 

He  bent  over  her  and  touched  her  ankle 
tentatively. 

"  Hurt  ?  "  he  said. 

161 


MERE  MAN 

"  No." 

"  There  ?  " 

"  No." 

"There?" 

She  winced. 

"  Yes." 

He  found  his  handkerchief  and  bound  it 
tightly  about  the  place. 

"  First  aid  to  the  injured.  Can't  make  it  any 
worse,"  he  said. 

He  stood  up  and  gave  the  situation  thought. 
For  a  moment  she  felt  the  luxurious  joy  of  leav- 
ing herself  and  the  conduct  of  the  affair  entirely 
to  him.  Then  her  indignation  at  her  helpless- 
ness caught  up  to  her  and  she  sat  with  com- 
pressed lips,  which  he  attributed  to  the  pain  in 
her  foot.  He  frowned. 

"  Must  get  you  away  from  here,"  he  rumi- 
nated, aloud.  "  Cabs,  taxicabs,  street  cars  don't 
run  up  these  steps,  though." 

Chagrin,  anger  at  herself,  mortification,  and 
a  still  unquenched  tiny  fountain  of  joy  that 

bubbled  into  the  midst  of  the  sombreness  within 

162 


MERE  MAN 

her,  left  her  silent — sitting  there  on  his  coat,  re- 
belling at  the  submission  of  her  attitude. 

"  I  must  carry  you,"  he  said,  desperately. 

She  did  not  reply. 

"  Please  stand  up." 

She  made  no  move. 

"  You  can't  sit  here  forever,"  he  cried,  "  like 
the  choragic  monument  of  Lysicrates." 

Unexpectedly,  she  laughed.  Then  grasping 
the  rail  beside  her,  she  stood  up. 

"  Your  coat.     Put  it  on.     You're  cold." 

"  I'm  not.     I'm  hot  with  embarrassment." 

She  laughed  again — a  clear,  silvery,  suddenly 
happy  laugh. 

"At  what?" 

"  At  having  to  carry  a  lady  who  doesn't  want 
me  to." 

She  put  her  arm  gently  on  his  shoulder. 

"  I  do,"  she  whispered. 

The  touch  of  him  froze  her  to  ice.  He  car- 
ried a  limp,  heavy  burden  toward  the  street. 
Her  lips,  so  close  to  his  face  that  he  could  feel 
her  warm  breath,  said  no  word.  He  set  her 

163 


MERE  MAN 

down  presently  on  the  coping  by  the  gateway  ; 
and,  putting  two  fingers  to  his  lips,  whistled 
into  the  night. 

They  waited  with  the  tense  air  of  castaways, 
hoping  for  a  passing  ship.  Again  and  again  he 
whistled  to  the  world  beyond  the  falling  snow. 
They  were  cold  now  and  wet. 

"  If  a  man  comes  by,"  he  said,  "  I'll  send  him 
to  telephone." 

And  then  out  of  the  storm,  like  a  full-rigged 
barkentine  coming  through  a  fog,  came  an  an- 
cient but  honorable  night-liner.  It  was  not 
much  of  a  cab  and  it  was  much  less  of  a  horse, 
but  it  moved — it  felt  the  breath  of  life,  as  it 
were.  Even  they,  captious  critics  that  they 
were,  could  see  that  it  moved ;  and,  being 
dirigible  as  well,  it  was  as  a  gift  from  heaven. 

He  carried  her  across  the  sidewalk  and  put 
her  comfortably  on  the  cushions  of  the  musty 
cabriolet.  The  door  slammed,  the  driver  shook 
renewed  vigor  into  his  steed  and  they  all 
rumbled  into  motion. 

She  sat  silent  in  her  corner,  disgusted  with 
164 


MERE  MAN 

herself,  hating  him,  fascinated  with  him,  won- 
dering at  the  kaleidoscope  of  emotions  that  ran 
through  her  breast,  alternating  from  cold  to 
fever,  siding  with  him,  siding  against  him,  de- 
spising herself,  encouraging  herself,  wondering 
that  she  should  be  so  happy.  The  pain  in  her 
ankle  was  but  a  small  part  of  the  ills  that  dis- 
turbed her — so  small  a  part  that  she  was  scarcely 
aware  of  it. 

The  lights  without  moved  by,  shining  on  the 
snow-covered  windows.  They  rode  in  silence, 
she  with  her  foot  propped  up  on  the  opposite 
seat  and  her  hands  clasped  tightly  in  her  lap, 
he  with  folded  arms  and  clouded  brow.  Pres- 
ently without  moving,  without  looking  at  her, 
he  said : 

"  I  respect  your  promise.  I  do  not  ask  you 
to  break  it — mere  trifle  though  it  is." 

She  wondered  what  she  could  say  to  him. 
Her  only  refuge  was  in  silence.  He  waited  a 
moment. 

"  I  am  in  a  strange  position,"  he  continued, 

presently.     "  I  want  you  with  all  my  soul,  but  I 

165 


MERE  MAN 

want  you,  many  times  more,  to  keep  your 
pledge,  because  that  is  like  all  the  things  in  you 
I  love." 

Tears  stung  her  eyes.  But  indignation  at 
them  overpowered  every  other  emotion  in  her. 

"  You  need  have  no  fears,"  she  said,  shortly, 
"  concerning  my  ability  to  keep  my  promise." 

"  I  have  none  at  all — that  you  will  dishonor 
your  ideals,"  he  exclaimed,  "  but — at  the  same 
time " 

He  stopped.  She  looked  at  him  wonderingly. 
He  met  her  eyes. 

"  I  shall  fight  till  I  get  you,"  he  said. 

She  turned  her  gaze  again  out  through  the 
snow-obscured  panes. 

"  You  will  waste  your  efforts,"  she  observed, 
coldly.  "  I  could  not  break  my  promise  under 
any  circumstances.  It  would  be  published  all 
over  the  country.  And  one  Benedict  Arnold 
would  do  more  harm  than  a  thousand  sup- 
porters could  repair.  I  would  rather  die  than 
do  it." 

He  disregarded  the  frigidity  in  her  tone. 
1 66 


MERE  MAN 

"  I  understand,"  he  said.  "  I  ask  no  favors. 
But  I  find  that  when  I  need  a  thing  very  badly 
a  lever  is  put  into  my  hands.  I  shall  come  and 
take  you — as  if  you  were  a  Sabine — a  mere 
Sabine." 


167 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  whole  story  of  how  and  where  Deborah 
sprained  her  ankle,  who  the  man  was  that 
brought  her  home,  how  he — whoever  he  was — 
discovered  her,  whether  she  had  ever  seen  him 
before  or  would  know  him  again  if  she  saw 
him  and  a  thousand  other  tantalizing  details 
that  the  unenlightened  members  of  Mrs. 
Prouty's  boarding-house  thirsted  to  know — 
was  never  given  out  to  the  public.  The  only 
information  that  the  curious  obtained  was  Mrs. 
Prouty's  statement — a  quite  insufficient  thing. 
All  Mrs.  Prouty  could  say  was  that  on  that 
night  about  half-past  ten — or  maybe  it  was 
eleven — there  came  a  ring  at  the  door  and  a 
very  distinguished  gentleman — very  distin- 
guished— explained  that  he  had  found  Miss 
Carver  with  a  sprained  ankle  and  had  brought 
her  home.  Mrs.  Prouty  was  that  excited  she 
1 68 


MERE  MAN 

had  run  out  in  the  snow  in  her  second-best 
dress  that  spotted  if  you  looked  at  it.  And  in 
front  of  her  very  eyes  didn't  the  gentleman  lift 
Miss  Carver  from  the  carriage  and  carry  her  up 
the  steps  into  the  house  and  then  right  on  up  to 
her  room,  the  flustered  landlady  following 
after.  The  gentleman  was  very  polite — quite 
the  gentleman  all  the  time.  He  put  Miss 
Carver,  wet  shoes  and  all,  down  on  the  bed  on 
the  coverlet,  and  then,  asking  her  who  her 
physician  was,  stepped  to  the  telephone  and  told 
him  to  come — leaving  a  five-cent  piece  on  the 
table  to  pay  for  the  call.  Then  he  said  good- 
night with  all  the  dignity  of  a  United  States 
Senator.  And  the  next  day  a  huge  box  of 
roses  came,  and  the  only  thing  that  was  on  the 
card  was,  "  From  an  admirer."  After  that  every 
time  any  one  at  Mrs.  Prouty's  table  discovered 
a  picture  of  a  senator  or  a  cabinet  officer  or  a 
foreign  ambassador,  he  showed  it  to  Mrs. 
Prouty  and  asked  her  if  it  looked  like  the 
man. 

But  as   time   passed   and   no  one  was  ever 
169 


MERE  MAN 

identified  and  Miss  Carver's  recovery  and  con- 
sequent reappearance  at  the  table  prevented 
discussion  on  the  subject,  interest  began  to  turn 
to  other  things.  Jane  Howell  was  greatly  dis- 
tressed that  Deborah  had  not  confided  in  her, 
but  as  she  felt  that  it  would  be  useless  to  try  to 
pry  the  secret  from  her,  she  did  not  attempt  to 
do  so. 

One  evening  in  the  early  weeks  of  December, 
Jane  burst  into  the  room.  Deborah,  whose  in- 
structions were  to  be  careful  of  her  ankle,  had 
been  staying  in  all  the  afternoon. 

"  Deborah,"  cried  Jane,  "  the  bill  for  the 
Equal  Suffrage  amendment  was  reported  to  the 
House  this  afternoon  without  recommendation. 
Every  one  hoped  that  the  committee  would  re- 
port it  favorably." 

"  Without  recommendation,  you  say  ? "  de- 
manded Deborah. 

"Yes.      Now,    don't    you    think    that   was 

strange  ?  "  cried  Jane,  earnestly.     She  provided 

in  her  mind  for  Congress  and  governors  and 

presidents  and  cabinet  officers  a  sort  of  super- 

170 


MERE  MAN 

etherial  code  of  conduct,  based  upon  the  con- 
victions that  grew  in  her  brain  ;  and  when  any 
one  of  these  powers,  for  some  complex  reason 
of  expediency,  failed  to  coincide  with  the  course 
she  laid  down  for  him,  she  knew  that  it  was 
due  to  a  wilful  and  culpable  perversity.  In 
this  case  she  felt  that  the  congressional  com- 
mittee could  very  easily  have  reported  favorably 
upon  the  bill,  but  they  just  happened  not  to  be 
in  the  humor. 

"  You  know,  I  don't  see  how  they  have  the 
face  to  do  such  a  thing,"  she  went  on.  "  Here 
are  all  these  women  throughout  the  country 
waiting — and  praying,  some  of  them — I  actually 
heard  of  a  case  in  Ohio  of  a  woman  who  took 
her  husband  out  on  the  back  lawn  and  prayed 
with  him  all  night  long  for  woman's  suffrage ; 
and  they  both  caught  cold — I  should  think  they 
would,  wouldn't  you,  just  in  their  night-clothes 
— and  nearly  died.  I  should  think  when  Con- 
gress knows  people  want  the  vote  as  much  as 
that,  they  would  be  ashamed  not  to  endorse 

the  bill  with  all  their  body  and  soul.     I  should 

171 


MERE  MAN 

think  they  would  praise  the  Lord  for  the  oppor- 
tunity." 

"  Perhaps  they  conscientiously  feel " 

"  But  you  know  this  isn't  conscience.  They 
just  don't  want  to  bother  with  it.  I  think  they 
don't  like  to  pass  bills  in  Congress  unless  they 
happen  to  think  of  them  of  their  own  accord. 
They're  jealous.  They're  just  afraid  that  some- 
body else  will  get  the  credit  of  inventing  the 
bill — so  they  don't  pass  it  at  all.  I  know  this 
because  the  bookkeeper  at  our  office,  who  has 
made  a  great  study  of  politics — he  knows  all 
the  congressmen  and  the  states  they  come  from 
and  their  first  names — told  me  about  it  in  con- 
fidence." 

"  Did  your  source  of  information  state,  Jane," 
asked  her  companion,  "  when  the  bill  was  to  be 
voted  on  ?  " 

"  My  source  of  information  was  the  evening 
paper — I  heard  the  boys  calling,  '  All  about  the 
Suffrage  bill,'  so  I  just  had  to  buy  a  paper, 
although  usually  when  they  say  all  about  any- 
thing there  is  only  a  word  or  two  about  it. 
172 


MERE  MAN 

But  it  really  did  have  a  long  account  of  the 
thing  to-night — I  meant  to  bring  the  paper 
home  with  me,  but  I  happened  to  leave  it  at 
the  milliner's  when  I  went  in  to  buy  a  paper  of 
pins.  I  left  the  paper  of  pins  at  the  post-office 
while  I  was  writing  to  Aunt  Caroline — I  knew 
I  simply  must  write  to  her  on  her  seventy-third 
birthday — she  has  been  so  good  to  me,  sent  me 
that  lovely  pair  of  gilt  shoe-trees  last  Christmas. 
But  I  don't  care.  I  didn't  need  the  pins  any- 
way— I  just  thought  they  would  be  nice  to 
have." 

"  Did  the  paper  say  anything  about  when  the 
vote  would  be  taken  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  was  what  I  started  to  tell  you. 
Why,  yes,  the  paper  said  that  an  agreement 
had  been  reached  whereby  the  bill  was  to  come 
up  for  final  reading  and  vote  a  week  from  to- 
day. They  just  had  to  do  it,  you  know.  Pres- 
sure has  been  brought  upon  them  from  all  over 
the  country.  They  couldn't  afford  to  delay ; 
public  opinion  is  aroused." 

"  Did  your  bookkeeper  say  that  ?  " 

173 


MERE  MAN 

"  Yes.  He  said  the  congressmen  were  in  a 
delicate  position ;  they  didn't  want  to  vote  for 
the  suffrage ;  it  was  inadvisable  to  vote  against 
it,  unless  they  justified  their  position  ;  and  they 
did  not  dare  delay." 

Mrs.  Prouty  knocked  on  the  door. 

"  Some  one  to  see  you,"  she  announced,  and 
ushered  in  Mrs.  Dobson  without  further  for- 
mality, in  the  same  way  she  would  have  handed 
in  a  package  of  laundry.  Deborah  greeted  her 
visitor  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Mercy  me,"  cried  Jane.  "  I  had  a  dinner 
engagement  at  six,  and  it  is  now  a  quarter  past." 

She  rushed  to  the  bed,  gathered  up  her  coat, 
Deborah's  umbrella,  one  glove  and  her  pocket- 
book  and  dashed  from  the  room. 

"Goodness,"  cried  Mrs.  Dobson,  who  had 
been  fidgeting  about  standing  on  one  foot,  "  I 
am  glad  I  have  more  repose  of  manner  than 
that." 

"What  do  you  think,"  asked  Deborah, 
"  about  the  action  of  the  committee  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dobson  sputtered. 
174 


MERE  MAN 

"  It's  infamous — downright  infamous  and  dis- 
honorable— that's  what  I  think.  I  have  given 
out  interviews  to  the  papers  to-day  saying 
that's  what  I  think.  The  congressmen  will  not 
enjoy  the  interviews  either.  In  addition  to 
that  I  have  sent  out  circular  letters  to  every 
Equal  Suffrage  organization  in  the  United 
States  urging  them  to  pass  resolutions  censur- 
ing the  committee  for  their  action.  The  plain 
duty  of  that  committee  was  to  report  the  bill 
favorably." 

"  That  won't  put  Congress  in  a  very  pleasant 
frame  of  mind,  will  it  ?  " 

"  We  are  not  trying  to.  We  are  not  asking 
favors.  We  are  demanding  our  rights.  The 
only  diplomacy  we  propose  to  use  is  a  great 
big  club." 

"  I  don't  understand  the  policy  of  antagoniz- 
ing them  all  just  now.  If  it  is  coming  to  a  vote 
in  a  week,  I  should  think  you  would  want  to 
rub  them  the  right  way." 

Mrs.  Dobson  rose  from  her  chair  and  stood 
up  before  the  fireplace. 

175 


MERE  MAN 

"  The  whole  thing,"  she  said,  "  is  all  fixed. 
We  have  found  out  all  about  it." 

"  They  are  going  to  amend  it  to  death  ?  " 

41  No,  not  that.  They  have  decided  that 
would  not  be  advisable.  The  bill  is  coming  up 
for  the  vote  just  as  it  stands.  But,  as  I  say,  it 
is  all  fixed.  The  members  will  want  something 
to  hide  behind  when  they  vote  against  the  bill 
— some  very  impressive,  spectacular  justifica- 
tion for  their  action.  They  wish  to  keep  under 
cover  until  the  last  minute,  run  out  and  vote,  and 
then  point  righteously  to  a  string  of  balderdash 
and  say,  4  There  is  my  justification.'  The  bal- 
derdash is  to  be  furnished  in  the  shape  of  a  fire- 
works oration  on  the  floor  of  the  House — and 
the  orator  is  to  be  John  Marshall  Lea." 

Deborah  looked  fixedly  at  a  spot  on  the  rug 
and  said  nothing.  Mrs.  Dobson  thrust  her 
glasses  up  into  the  region  of  her  hair. 

44  This  rascal   Lea,"  she  continued,  4<  knows 

just  how  to  frame  such  a  speech.     I  can  hear 

him  now  calling  the  attention  of  the  House  to 

the  blessed  and  divine  function  of  woman,  the 

176 


MERE  MAN 

sanctity  of  her  presence,  the  glory  of  her  mother- 
hood, the  inscrutable  wonder  of  the  plan  God  in 
His  heaven  has  laid  down  for  her.  And  he  will 
caution  this  distinguished  assembly  that  the 
hem  of  her  robe  must  not  be  dragged  in  the 
mire  of  politics  as  the  result  of  the  action  of  the 
House  of  Representatives.  I  can  first  see  him. 
He  is  a  finished  orator.  There  will  not  be  a 
dry  eye  in  the  House.  The  very  ink-wells  will 
weep.  The  press  gallery  will  be  a  cohort  of 
frenzied  gloom.  The  linotype  machines  of  their 
papers  back  home  will  shake  with  sobs.  And 
the  evening  extras  with  two-inch  high  head- 
lines will  bring  tears  to  every  fireside  in  the 
country.  In  the  wake  of  that  the  members  can 
point  without  nervousness  to  the  fact  that  they 
killed  the  bill." 

Deborah  looked  helplessly  at  her  companion. 
She  should  have  risen  to  the  same  heights  of 
indignation  where  dwelt  Mrs.  Dobson.  But  no 
irresistible  force  carried  her  there.  Instead,  the 
thought  of  this  compelling  speech  aroused  in 

her  a  thrill  of  enthusiasm.     It  was  the  same 

177 


MERE  MAN 

thrill,  she  told  herself,  that  she  used  to  feel  when 
she  read  of  the  great  orations  of  the  old  states- 
men. 

Mrs.  Dobson  paced  the  floor. 

"  Something  must  be  done,"  she  said,  solilo- 
quizing. "  We  must  win.  We  must  spring  a 
surprise.  We  must  beat  them." 

"But  how?" 

"  There  is  only  one  way.  I  have  tried  to 
think  of  another.  But  there  is  no  other." 

Deborah  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"  What  is  the  way  ?  "  she  demanded,  faintly. 

Mrs.  Dobson  sank  on  the  bed. 

"  We  must  get  rid  of  Mr.  Lea."  Her  eyes 
bored  into  Deborah.  "  On  that  day  we  must 
kidnap  him." 

There  was  a  silence  in  the  room.  An  unex- 
pected wave  of  hostility  against  Mrs.  Dobson 
swept  over  the  girl.  She  felt  an  impulse  to  ex- 
claim indignantly  against  the  other's  scheme. 
But  she  held  herself  in  hand. 

"  But,"  she  said,  for  the  sake  of  saying  some- 
thing, "  they  would  only  postpone  the  vote." 
178 


MERE  MAN 

"  They  can't.  They  have  agreed  to  vote  a 
week  from  to-day.  They  have  promised  the 
country.  They  will  have  to  do  it.  Without 
John  Marshall  Lea  there  will  be  no  speech.  The 
wavering  members  will  have  nothing  to  hide  be- 
hind. Driven  out  in  the  open  they  will  vote 
with  us." 

Deborah  sought  for  a  reply  but  found  none. 

"  Well,"  cried  her  companion,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  it?" 

"  Isn't  kidnapping  a  man  difficult  ?  " 

"  Nothing  is  difficult.  Nothing  is  impossible. 
Nothing  is  even  improbable  in  a  good  cause." 

"  But,"  cried  Deborah,  incredulously,  "  will 
you  simply  hit  him  on  the  head  with  a  sand- 
bag and  drag  him  off?  " 

Mrs.  Dobson  laughed  comfortably. 

"  Oh,  no.  Finesse,  my  dear.  There  are  a 
thousand  ways.  This  is  one.  Listen.  On  the 
night  before  the  vote,  it  happens  that  Mrs. 
Thingumbob — I  never  can  remember  these  so- 
cial women's  names — is  giving  a  reception  at 
her  country  home.  Mr.  Lea  is  going — in  a 

179 


MERE  MAN 

taxicab.  You  see  what  a  system  I  have.  I 
know  everything.  What  is  to  hinder  us,  under 
cover  of  night  on  a  country  road,  from  whisking 
him  off  to  a  quiet  place  of  retirement  ?  " 

"  Where,  for  instance  ? "  asked  Deborah, 
dully. 

"  Don't  ask  me  details,  child.  I  don't  know. 
Yes,  I  do  too,"  she  contradicted,  suddenly. 
"  Mrs.  Devine  has  a  country  house  somewhere 
there  in  Maryland.  It  is  unoccupied.  It  would 
make  an  ideal  place  for  the  incarceration  of  this 
rascal." 

She  rose  and  paced  the  floor.  Presently  she 
paused  and  stared  fixedly  at  Deborah.  The 
color  rushed  to  the  girl's  face.  Why  was  Mrs. 
Dobson  telling  her  of  these  plans  ?  That  lady 
did  not  usually  take  others  into  her  confidence 
to  no  purpose. 

"  What  we  need,"  said  the  older  lady,  firmly, 
"  is  some  one  to  carry  this  scheme  through — 
some  young  person  whose  wits  work  quickly." 

Deborah  was  hot  all   over.     She  could  feel 

the  flush  of  a  miserable  embarrassment  sting- 
180 


MERE  MAN 

ing  her  face.  She  wondered  what  Mrs.  Dobson 
was  thinking. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  meeting  the  other's  eyes 
with  an  effort. 

"This,"  said  Mrs.  Dobson,  "is  the  most  im- 
portant single  act  in  the  history  of  our  whole 
movement.  It  is  the  chance  of  a  lifetime  for 
some  one  to  make  history — to  write  her  name 
down  as  the  one  who — almost  single-handed — 
made  woman's  suffrage  possible." 

Deborah  felt  the  keen  eyes  upon  her. 

"I  suppose,  Mrs.  Dobson,"  she  said,  pres- 
ently, "  you  mean  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  do." 

The  girl  gazed  at  her  folded  hands  in  her  lap. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  work  out  a  plan  of  kid- 
napping him — and  then  do  it.  You  can  have 
all  the  assistance  and  money  and  everything 
else  you  need." 

Deborah's  handkerchief  was  rolled  up  in  a 
tight  ball  in  her  hands.  The  palms  of  those 

hands  were  moist  and  nervously  clenched.     She 

181 


MERE  MAN 

would  have  liked  to  flee  from  the  room  and 
leave  Mrs.  Dobson  and  her  schemes.  She 
would  have  liked  to  run  away  from  the  thing 
inside  her,  all  aflame,  that  she  knew  was  con- 
science. It  was  this  conscience  that  assured 
her  of  her  own  iniquity.  Her  wrong-doing 
loomed  up  mountain  high  before  her.  Was 
she  sliding  backward,  was  she  failing  to  keep 
faith,  in  her  heart,  with  Mrs.  Dobson  and  all 
her  inspired  crusade  ? 

Perhaps  she  felt  that  before  her  lay  the  old, 
old,  irresistible  pathway  of  every  woman,  the 
way  that  God  had  laid  out  for  her,  the  way  that 
led  to  a  man  that  she  loved.  Perhaps  for  a 
moment  that  mirage  eclipsed  everything,  made 
the  crusade  for  suffrage  seem  like  something 
afar  off.  But  it  was  only  for  a  moment. 

She  would  not  backslide.  There  was  no  real 
earnest  fibre  in  her  that  urged  that  What  if 
she  did  proceed  against  a  man  whose  memory 
was  a  rosy  picture,  and  whose  companionship 
was  pleasant — nay,  exciting — to  her?  What  if 
she  did  attempt  to  thwart  him  ?  They  were  on 
182 


MERE  MAN 

equal  terms.  If  he  must  do  his  duty,  she  must 
also  do  hers.  It  seemed  like  a  Spartan  remedy, 
but 

She  arose  and  threw  her  crumpled  handker- 
chief on  the  bed. 

"Very  well,  Mrs.  Dobson,"  she  said.  "I  will 
help." 


183 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SIX  days  later.  It  was  seven  o'clock  in  the 
evening.  To-morrow  was  the  date  of  the 
vote  upon  the  Equal  Suffrage  amendment. 
The  papers  had  worked  the  people  up  to  a  state 
of  expectation  and  excitement  over  the  ques- 
tion. It  was  being  discussed  on  the  street 
corners,  in  the  shops,  everywhere.  Even  the 
sudden  death  of  old  Senator  Hemmingway,  one 
of  the  foremost  figures  in  public  life  for  many 
years,  failed  to  furnish  a  change  of  topic. 

Deborah  was  more  than  excited.  She  could 
scarcely  wait  for  the  hours  to  go  by.  If  the 
thing  were  only  done  and  over  with!  She 
knew  she  feared  that  at  the  crucial  moment,  if 
it  required  quick  thought  and  quick  action,  her 
sympathies  would  be  on  the  wrong  side;  and  if 
the  plans  miscarried,  she  would  always  blame 
herself  for  it.  She  went  into  the  telephone 

booth  at  the  drug  store.     Her  nerves  by  this 
184 


MERE  MAN 

time  were  on  edge,  so  that  the  slamming  of  the 
door  startled  her. 

"  Mrs.  Dobson,"  she  said,  presently,  when 
she  got  that  lady  on  the  telephone,  "  are  you 
sure  about  this  man  ?  " 

She  could  feel  the  very  tension  in  her  voice. 

"  Just  as  sure  as  I  am  of  the  existence  of  the 
moon." 

"  He  knows  the  proper  place  ?  " 

"Knows  it  backward,  sidewise  and  front- 
ward. Don't  worry  about  him.  He  will  carry 
it  off." 

"  What  does  he  look  like  ?  " 

"  Red-headed  Irishman." 

"Has  he  his  badge?" 

"  Yes,  he  has  it.  Good  luck  to  you.  Don't 
lose  your  nerve." 

Deborah  laughed  nervously.  She  called  up 
Mrs.  Devine  and  asked  her  an  all-important 
question. 

^     "  Robert  will  be  there  at  eight  o'clock,  my 
dear,"  Mrs.  Devine  assured  her,  "  without  fail." 

Deborah  answered  vaguely,  and  hung  up  the 
185 


MERE  MAN 

receiver.  She  sat  irresolute  before  the  instru- 
ment, hesitating  like  one  about  to  plunge  into 
cold  water.  Then  with  a  feverish  haste  she 
took  off  the  receiver  and  gave  a  number. 

"Taxicab  company?"  she  asked,  in  a  mo- 
ment. She  could  hear  her  heart  beating. 

"Yes." 

She  caught  her  breath. 

"  Representative  Lea,"  she  began,  "  has  or- 
dered a  taxi  for  to-night  and " 

"  Just  a  moment."  There  was  a  pause. 
"  Yes,  to-night  at  eight" 

"  Owing  to  a  change  in  plans,"  Deborah  went 
on,  with  cool  deliberation,  "  we  wish  that 
countermanded.  Will  that  be  satisfactory?" 

"  Perfectly,"  returned  the  voice,  sweetly. 
"  We  are  always  willing  to  make  a  change  if 
the  service  is  not  needed." 

"  Then  you  will  cancel  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly.     Very  glad  to  do  so,  Mrs.  Lea." 

Deborah  drew  a  long  breath. 

'  Thank  you,"  she  said,  not  referring  to  the 
title  by  which  she  had  been  addressed. 
1 86 


MERE  MAN 

She  went  back  to  her  room  and,  with  the 
feeling  of  a  man  about  to  be  executed,  laid  out 
her  only  evening  gown  upon  the  bed.  With  it 
she  put  her  best  underclothing  and  a  pair  of  silk 
stockings.  When  Jane  bustled  into  the  room 
fifteen  minutes  later,  she  found  her  roommate, 
rosy  from  a  lukewarm  bath  of  the  usual  Prouty 
temperature,  clad  in  the  silk  stockings  and 
pumps  and  a  bewildering  blaze  of  lace  and  rib- 
bons, just  preparing  to  dive  through  the  skirt 
of  her  gown. 

"  Mercy,  Deborah,  where  are  you  going?" 

Deborah  smiled  with  inscrutable  mystery. 

"  Sporting,"  she  said. 

"  With  a  man  ?  " 

"  What  a  question  !  I  am  a  professional  old 
maid." 

"  You  didn't  tell  me  you  were  going  out." 

"Didn't  I?" 

"  Are  you  going  on  the  street  cars  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  knew." 

187 


MERE  MAN 

"  Deborah,  you've  gone  crazy." 

"  That,"   said   Deborah,    "  is   certainly   true. 
Please  hook  me  up  in  the  back." 

She  was  finally  dressed.  She  threw  a  cloak 
over  her  shoulders  and  running  across  to  the 
drug  store  once  more,  again  imprisoned  herself 
in  the  telephone  booth.  This  time  there  was  no 
jauntiness  at  all  in  her  manner.  Her  heart  beat 
with  sickening  intensity.  She  could  feel  the 
red-hot  flush  that  flooded  her  from  her  face 
down  to  her  very  toes.  She  threw  off  her 
cloak,  and  hunted,  with  fingers  that  trembled, 
for  the  number  in  the  book.  She  hurried,  yet 
she  was  in  no  haste.  There  was  the  number. 
She  gazed  at  it  blankly.  She  drove  herself  to 
lift  the  receiver  from  its  hook.  She  gave  the 
number  in  a  strange  voice  that  did  not  seem  her 
own.  A  long  pause,  during  which  the  moan  of 
furies  sang  on  the  wire.  Presently  a  voice — a 
clear,  sympathetic  voice — answered  her.  She 
wanted  to  hang  up  the  receiver  and  fly  from 
that  place.  But  she  caught  the  telephone  in- 
strument in  a  grip  of  steel. 
188 


MERE  MAN 

"  Representative  Lea  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a 
sharpness  that  surprised  her. 

"  Yes."  The  voice  was  brisk,  but  pleasantly 
deep. 

She  set  her  teeth. 

"  Taxicab  company,"  she  said.  "  We  prom- 
ised you  a  cab  to-night." 

"  Yes.     What's  the  matter  ?  " 

He  could  not  have  recognized  her.  Nervous- 
ness and  excitement  had  made  her  inflections 
cold  as  steel. 

"  We  are  short  of  machines,"  she  replied.  "  A 
lady  is  very  anxious  to  go  to  Mrs.  Meddows'  to- 
night— it  is  almost  imperative.  Would  you 
mind  her  going  in  your  machine  ?  We  are 
sending  a  touring  car — she  could  sit  with  the 
chauffeur." 

"  Not  at  all,"  returned  the  voice  on  the  wire. 
"  That  is  perfectly  satisfactory.  Of  course  she 
must  not  sit  with  the  chauffeur.  I  will  do 
that." 

Her  hand  against  her  face  was  icy  cold. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Lea.     We  are  deeply  in- 
189 


MERE  MAN 

debted  to  you.  Our  machine  will  stop  for  the 
lady  first." 

She  hung  up  the  receiver  and  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands. 

"  I  am  no  conspirator,"  she  said.  "  I  feel  as 
though  I  had  been  stretched  on  the  rack  for 
days." 

Twenty  minutes  later,  Mrs.  Devine's  machine, 
driven  by  Robert,  her  chauffeur,  drew  up  at  Mrs. 
Prouty's  door. 

"You  understand  everything,"  said  Deborah 
to  him.  "  Mrs.  Devine  has  explained  it." 

The  man  nodded. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Carver.     I  understand." 

The  whole  thing  seemed  ridiculously  melo- 
dramatic and  improbable.  She  took  her  seat  in 
the  corner  of  the  tonneau,  feeling  as  if  she  ought 
to  have  a  black  mask  and  a  revolver.  Robert 
drove  around  the  square  and  drew  up  presently 
before  the  house  in  which  John  Lea  lived.  He 
stepped  down  and  rang  the  bell.  The  engine 
purred  softly.  A  person  answered  the  bell,  and 
promised  to  inform  Mr.  Lea.  Presently  Mr.  Lea 
190 


MERE  MAN 

appeared.  Deborah  would  have  given  a  thou- 
sand dollars  for  the  privilege  of  hiding  then 
under  the  seat. 

She  kept  her  nerve.  She  was  not  one  to  turn 
back,  once  her  hand  was  on  the  plough.  He 
came  to  the  edge  of  the  pavement.  She  broke 
into  a  merry  laugh. 

Lea  looked  at  her. 

"  By  the  heavens  ! "  he  cried.     "  You  I  " 

She  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  never  knew  anything  so  ridiculous.  I 
simply  had  to  go — and  we  made  this  arrange- 
ment " — she  burst  into  a  laugh — "  I  never 
knew  anything  so  embarrassing." 

"  Bless  your  dear  heart,"  he  cried,  "  I'm 
glad." 

"  What  can  you  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  You  know  very  well,"  he  said,  gravely, 
"  what  I  think  of  you." 

The  blood  raced  in  her  veins,  but  she  did  not 
dare  to  let  her  mind  rest  on  him.  From  now 
on  he  was  simply  her  legitimate  quarry.  He, 

being  an  exalted  thing  called  man,  could  take 

191 


MERE  MAN 

care  of  himself.  Let  him.  He  knew  which 
side  she  was  on.  She  would  play  the  game. 

The  car  started.  She  leaned  back  against 
the  cushions.  He  gazed  at  her  intently,  noting 
the  fine  flush  of  excitement  on  her  cheek,  but 
not  guessing  its  cause.  She  turned  her  face 
full  upon  him  and  smiled  with  easy  impudence. 
The  car  hurried  on,  weaving  a  tortuous  course 
through  the  city,  passing  out  of  the  busier  whirl 
of  down-town  to  the  quiet  of  the  residential  dis- 
trict, and  then  to  the  dim  and  silent  fringe  of 
the  city. 

"There  is  about  three  hours  difference  in 
time  between  here  and  down-town,"  said  Lea, 
thoughtfully.  "  There  the  evening  was  just  be- 
ginning. Here  the  good  folk  are  ready  for  bed." 

"  Their  day's  work  is  over.  Ours  is  start- 
ing." 

He  laughed. 

"What  is  the  matter?  "  he  said.  "Not  in  a 
very  festive  humor  to-night,  are  you?" 

"  Of  course  I  am." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  coming, 
192 


MERE  MAN 

instead  of  trying  to  make  it  all  alone — like  a 
society  reporter  ?  " 

She  smiled. 

"  Sh-h-h,"  she  said. 

"  You're  not  really  doing — that  kind  of  work?  " 
he  demanded,  quickly. 

"  Why  else  should  I  have  come  to  a  party 
alone?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know."  He  ruminated  a 
moment.  "  Some  day  you  won't  have  to  do 
that  sort  of  thing." 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  shan't  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  calmly. 

"  I'm   not  going  to  let  you,"  he  said,  firmly. 

A  bantering  reply  came  to  her  lips,  but  she 
found  she  did  not  want  to  utter  it. 

They  stopped  presently  to  put  up  the  top,  for 
the  wind  had  begun  to  blow  and  there  were 
flakes  of  snow  in  the  air. 

"  When  I  am  with  you,"  he  said,  "it  usually 
snows." 

"  I  hope,"  she  said,  idly,  "  it  brings  us  good 
luck." 

193 


MERE  MAN 

"  As  it  did  before." 

She  made  no  reply.  They  were  out  on  ma- 
cadam roads  now,  flying  along  in  the  dark. 
Their  search-light  cast  a  long  white  finger  ahead 
of  them.  At  a  fork  in  the  road  the  chauffeur 
turned  to  the  left. 

"  You  should  have  kept  right  on,"  said  Lea. 

"  Fixing  the  road  down  there,  sir,"  replied 
Robert,  briskly.  "  We  have  to  make  this  de- 
tour." 

"  The  road  isn't  very  good." 

"  Won't  last  long,  sir." 

It  was  a  dark,  narrow  road  lined  with  trees. 
They  went  on  and  on.  After  some  fifteen 
minutes  of  rough  riding  they  came  out  again 
on  macadam. 

"This  doesn't  look  right  to  me,"  observed 
Lea. 

Robert  touched  his  hat. 

"  It's  a  very  long  way  'round,  sir." 

"  You  had  better  put  on  all  the  speed  you 
have  then.  We  are  a  little  late  now." 

In  response,  the  machine  shot  forward.  It 
194 


MERE  MAN 

seemed  as  though  they  were  gliding  through 
the  darkness  without  touching  the  ground. 
Nothing  was  visible  save  the  white  glare  of  the 
search-light.  By  shutting  her  eyes,  Deborah 
could  imagine  they  were  in  an  aeroplane  shoot- 
ing speedily  through  space.  It  seemed  once 
that  they  passed  a  man  on  a  bicycle,  but  he 
slipped  by  so  quickly  it  was  impossible  to  tell. 
Presently  they  began  to  slow  down. 

"  Don't  stop  ! "  cried  Lea.  "  It's  nine  o'clock 
now." 

Robert  made  no  reply.  Just  then  they  heard, 
indeed,  the  chug  of  the  motorcycle  they  had 
passed.  The  chauffeur  threw  off  his  power  and 
presently  the  man  drew  up  beside  them. 

"  Stop  the  car,"  he  called,  briskly. 

The  light  fell  on  the  man.  He  had  red  hair 
and  spoke  with  a  slight  brogue.  He  threw  open 
his  coat  and  showed  his  shining  badge. 

"  You  were  exceeding  the  speed  limit,"  said 
he  ;  "  drive  down  the  road.  There  is  a  justice 
of  the  peace  here." 

"  We  can't  stop  now,"  exclaimed  Lea.  "  Give 
195 


MERE  MAN 

them  your  name,  chauffeur,  and  appear  in  the 
morning." 

"  Against  the  rules  of  the  county.  And  you 
are  responsible,  sir." 

"  But  this  is  a  hired  car." 

"  Did  you  give  instructions  to  go  faster?  " 

"  I  did.     Yes." 

"  You  are  responsible  then.  We  will  keep 
you  no  longer  than  is  necessary  for  our  pur- 
pose." 

Deborah  thought  those  words  were  aptly 
chosen.  She  lay  back  in  the  corner,  not  mov- 
ing a  muscle.  She  watched  the  tight  lips  of 
John  Lea.  His  eyes  shot  lightning,  but  he  con- 
trolled himself  splendidly. 

"  All  right.     Go  ahead,"  he  said,  shortly. 

The  man  rode  on.  Robert  followed  with  the 
car.  They  drove  half  a  mile  and  turned  in  at 
the  gateway  of  a  dark,  uncertain  place.  The 
drive  on  which  they  ran  led  up  to  a  dark  house. 
The  search-light  reflected  on  the  windows. 
Under  the  porte-cochere  the  machine  stopped. 
A  maid  opened  the  door  at  the  red-haired 
196 


MERE  MAN 

man's  ring.  The  maid  was  Mrs.  Devine's 
maid.  Within,  the  hall  was  lighted  and  the 
maid  switched  on  lights  on  the  porch. 

"  Is  the  squire  in  ?  " 

The  woman  did  not  move  a  muscle. 

"  He  is  in  the  house  yonder.  I'll  telephone 
for  him." 

"  Very  good."  The  red-headed  man  turned 
to  Lea.  "  Will  you  and  the  lady  step  into  the 
squire's  study  for  a  moment  ?  " 

Lea  looked  at  the  man  intently. 

"  Now,  don't  fuss,"  said  Deborah. 

He  turned  his  back  on  the  man  and  strode 
up  the  steps.  At  the  end  of  the  hall  was  an 
open  door. 

"This  way,"  said  the  maid,  leading  them 
toward  it. 

Lea  walked  past  her.  In  that  moment  the 
maid  just  ahead  of  Deborah  held  up  a  card 
behind  her  back.  Deborah  read  on  it  this 
sentence  : 

"  Rescue  party  will  be  here  soon." 

She  smiled  contentedly. 
197 


MERE  MAN 

She  and  Lea  entered  the  room.  The  door 
closed  behind  them.  There  was  conversation 
in  the  hall,  under  cloak  of  which  Deborah  heard 
them  turn  the  key  of  the  door. 

John  Marshall  Lea  was  her  prisoner. 


198 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHEN  the  key  had  turned  with  a  barely 
distinguishable  click  and  the  noise  of 
conversation  in  the  hall  had  ceased  and  at 
length  the  muffled  thud  of  the  front  door  told 
of  the  supposed  departure  of  one  or  more  of 
them  for  the  promised  justice  of  the  peace,  Lea, 
assuming  a  sudden  air  of  calmness,  gazed  about 
him  with  a  spark  of  interest  in  his  surround- 
ings. It  was  a  low-ceilinged,  beamed  room 
with  a  fireplace  at  one  end.  Along  the  walls 
of  the  main  part  of  the  room  were  shelves  of 
books. 

Pulling  aside  the  heavy  drapery  at  the  win- 
dows, he  looked  out  through  sturdily  wrought 
iron  grilles  into  the  snow  of  the  night.  The 
clouded-over  moon  cast  a  faint  glow  of  light 
over  the  world  and  in  it  he  could  see  the  thickly 
falling  flakes  swirled  past  the  window  by  the 

rising  wind.     Already  the  ground  was  white. 

199 


MERE  MAN 

The  curtain  fell. 

"Snowing  !  "  he  asserted  pleasantly. 

"  Is  it?  "  she  said,  smiling,  from  her  rigid  seat 
in  a  straight-backed  chair. 

He  glanced  at  a  row  of  books. 

"  Let's  see  what  the  justice  enjoys  in  the  way 
of  literature.  Peter  Ibbottson,  '  The  Mill  on  the 
Floss/  '  Sherlock  Holmes.'  Ah  !  True  to  form. 
Detective  stories!  The  proper  relaxation  for 
the  legal  mind." 

He  stopped  by  the  door  through  which  they 
had  entered — the  only  door  to  the  room — and 
examined  its  physical  appearance  carefully. 
But  somewhat  to  her  surprise  he  did  not  try 
the  knob.  Instead,  he  walked  away  and  seated 
himself  in  a  leather-covered  chair  under  the 
light  on  the  table.  He  picked  up  a  paper  knife 
made  in  some  fantastic  design  and  examined  it 
idly.  His  calm  disconcerted  her. 

"  You  do  not  converse  readily,  do  you?  "  she 
asserted,  solemnly. 

He  bowed. 

"  You  compliment  me,"  he  returned.     "  All 

200 


MERE  MAN 

my  life  people  have  assured  me  that  I  had  an 
unfortunate  sufficiency  of  conversation." 

"  That's  just  soliloquizing — thinking  out  loud 
— like  Hamlet.  I  mean  conversation." 

"  It  takes  two  to  accomplish  it.  And  you  are 
very  quiet  to-night."  He  looked  across  the 
table  at  her.  "  What's  the  matter  ?  Something 
on  your  mind  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  started.  She  felt  like  Lady  Macbeth  at 
the  knocking  on  the  gate.  But  she  smiled. 

"  No,"  she  said,  pleasantly. 

The  little  clock  on  the  mantle  struck  ten. 

"  Old  justice,"  observed  Lea,  "  must  be  in 
the  midst  of  an  exciting  game  of  checkers  with 
the  storekeeper." 

The  wind  whistled  as  it  rounded  the  corner. 
He  raised  the  hangings  of  the  window  again 
and  looked  out  at  the  roaring  storm.  The 
snow  had  piled  up  with  incredible  rapidity  and 
the  wind  was  carrying  it  with  such  force  that 
the  falling  flakes  and  the  drifting  snow  merged 
in  the  swirling  clouds  that  swept  by. 

" '  St.  Agnes'  eve.    Ah,  bitter  chill  it  was/  " 
20 1 


MERE  MAN 

he  muttered.  " '  The  owl  for  all  his  feathers 
was  a-cold.'  " 

She  leaned  forward  in  her  chair. 

"  Say  some  more  of  it,"  she  said. 

He  let  the  curtain  fall  in  surprise  and  faced 
about  with  a  smile.  Without  a  word  he  leaned 
against  the  trim  of  the  window  and  throwing 
back  his  head  repeated  the  whole  wonderful 
wintry  poem — not  to  her,  for  his  eyes  rested  on 
the  ceiling ;  but  just  with  the  simple  pleasure 
of  a  person  humming  an  old  song.  She  had 
never  known  him  to  be  more  wonderful.  He 
made  the  music  of  it  throb  with  a  new,  living, 
personal  reality — as  of  a  master  'celloist  who 
lets  forth  the  wonders  of  some  glorious  inter- 
mezzo. She  forgot  the  room,  the  house,  the 
eternal  cause  and  the  rescue  party  that  had  not 
come.  She  thought  only  of  him.  It  was  as  if 
he  were  admitting  her  to  the  inner  mansion  of 
his  soul.  And  when  he  had  finished,  there  was 
a  silence  in  the  room  as  marvelous  and  strange 
as  if  a  celestial  procession  had  passed  through 
it.  They  did  not  look  at  each  other. 

202 


MERE  MAN 

"And  that,"  he  said,  presently,  "was  just 
such  a  night  as  this." 

He  pushed  aside  the  curtain  again. 

"  Rough  driving  out  there,"  he  asserted.  "  It 
is  very  wild.  I  wouldn't  trust  any  chauffeur  to 
keep  to  the  road  a  night  like  this." 

She  followed  him  to  the  window. 

"  This  ought  not  to  keep  " — she  checked  her- 
self— "  to  keep  us  from  going,  ought  it  ?  " 

"  Nothing  will  stop  me  to-night,"  he  ob- 
served, enigmatically. 

She  looked  at  him  hard.     Then  she  laughed. 

"  Old  cock-sure  I  "  she  said,  but  there  was  a 
touch  of  tenderness  in  her  voice. 

She  sank  down  into  a  chair — the  comfortable 
one  he  had  been  sitting  in.  He  made  the  cir- 
cuit of  the  room  again,  eyeing  the  furnishings 
and  fastenings  of  the  room  with  an  air  that  was 
pleasantly  curious.  There  were  three  windows 
and  one  door.  The  ornamental  wrought  iron 
grilles  that  barred  the  windows  were  let  into 
the  masonry  and  leaded  into  place.  The  door 

was  of  solid  oak.     Lea  noted  all  these  details 

203 


MERE  MAN 

with  interest  and  returned  to  a  seat  by  the 
lamp. 

Deborah,  who  had  been  watching  the  clock 
while  his  back  was  turned,  was  too  much  ex- 
cited and  perturbed  now  to  trust  herself  to  con- 
versation. She  seized  a  magazine  at  random 
and  pretended  to  read.  Old  campaigner  that 
he  was,  and  but  too  well  schooled  in  the  para- 
mount value  of  patience,  he  glanced  over  the 
books  on  the  table  and,  selecting  one,  began 
actually  to  read.  The  clock,  viewing  this  do- 
mestic scene,  struck  eleven  in  a  peremptory 
and  disapproving  manner. 

The  next  hour  was  not  more  than  usually 
long  to  Lea.  He  had  nothing  to  worry  about 
— he  was  following  that  luxurious  idea  of  let- 
ting events  take  their  course.  To  Deborah  it 
was  months  long,  expecting  as  she  did  the  ar- 
rival momentarily  of  a  rescue  party  from  Wash- 
ington. She  read  not  a  word.  Her  eye  was 
on  the  nearly  stationary  hand  of  the  clock.  At 
the  end  of  the  several  months  menti9ned,  the 
hands  at  last  dragged  themselves  up  to  the 
204 


MERE  MAN 

zenith  like  two  spent  explorers  crawling  to  the 
pole,  and  the  clock  struck  twelve. 

"  Goodness  1 "  exclaimed  Lea,  closing  his 
book.  "  Midnight." 

There  was  a  scarcely  audible  tap  at  the  door. 
Deborah  sat  up  rigidly.  She  knew  the  rescue 
party  had  not  come,  for  they  would  have  made 
a  tumult  of  noise.  The  rap  sounded  again. 

"  Miss  Carver,"  said  a  voice,  "  how  long  is 
you  going  to  sit  up  ?  " 

There  was  silence  in  the  room,  complete  and 
absolute.  She  rose,  however,  with  easy  dignity. 

"  What  did  you  want,  Martha  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Did  you  want  me  to  stay  up  any  longer  ?  " 

All  pretense  of  concealment  was  useless  now. 

"  Is  there  any  sign  of  the  other  people  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Carver." 

Deborah  ruminated. 

"  Wait  half  an  hour  more,"  she  said,  at 
length. 


205 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THEY  heard  the  footsteps  of  the  maid  re- 
treating down  the  hall.  Lea  looked  at 
her  with  keen  eyes. 

"  Now  what  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  returned,  "  I  had  better  tell 
you  the  whole  story." 

"  Why,  yes.  It  has  been  gradually  dawning 
on  me,"  he  said,  "  during  the  past  three  hours. 
I  suppose  I  have  been  kidnapped  ?  " 

"  That's  it,"  she  replied,  not  looking  at  him. 

"  How  long  is  this — incarceration — to  last?  " 

"  We  don't  want  you  to  be  at  the  House  to- 
morrow, when  the  vote  is  taken.  You  are  such 
an  important  factor,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  that  we 
felt  it  best  to  have  you  out  of  the  way." 

"  I  feel  the  compliment  deeply,"  he  replied. 

"  A  party  of  seven  or  eight  are  on  their  way 
now  to  get  me  and  to  care  for  you  the  rest  of 
the  night  and  to-morrow." 

She  strove  to  say  this  casually,  as  though 

206 


MERE  MAN 

there  were  no  doubt  in  the  world  as  to  the  ar- 
rival of  the  party. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  -he  said,  "  and  if  the  party  does 
not  come  ?  " 

"  I  shall  make  other  arrangements." 

He  nodded. 

"  What  made  you  suspect,"  she  went  on, 
changing  the  subject  quickly,  "  that  you  were 
being — that  I  was  running  off  with  you  ?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  First  of  all,"  he  said,  "  I  took  the  precaution 
to  look  at  the  book-plate  in  several  of  those 
novels,  and  when  I  found  they  all  bore  a  rather 
prominent  woman's  suffrage  name,  I  began  to 
see  it  was  not  for  speeding  I  had  been  clapped 
into  this  strong-box." 

"  You  have  been  very  mild  about  it,"  she 
said,  wonderingly.  "  I  hoped  you  would  rave 
about  and  tear  your  hair." 

"Not  yet,"  he  returned,  smiling.  "You  see, 
the  game  has  just  begun." 

She  met  his  eyes  then.     He  returned  her  gaze 

with  a  pleasant  steadiness.     That  exchange  of 

207 


MERE  MAN 

glances  each  felt  was  like  the  preliminary  touch 
of  swords.  She  waited,  studying  him  carefully. 
The  clock  ticked  on  methodically,  the  only 
audible  thing  in  the  room.  She  decided  on  her 
course.  She  rose  and  held  out  her  hand  with 
every  appearance  of  graciousness. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said,  with  a  radiant  smile. 

He  rose  too,  looking  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Going  ?  "  he  asked,  mildly, 

"  Yes." 

"  How  shall  you  get  out  ?  " 

"  I  will  ring  for  the  maid  to  unlock  the  door." 

"Splendid  idea,"   he   agreed,   unexpectedly. 
"  I  will  go  with  you." 

She  paused. 

"  You  are  not  to  go,"  she  said,  slowly. 

He  laughed  easily. 

"  I  shall  have  to  be  restrained  by  force  then. 
I  fear  that  the  seven  or  eight  in  your  party  of 
reinforcements  could  have  overwhelmed  me. 
But  under  the  present  circumstances,  I  shall  be 
compelled  to  take  advantage  of — the  non-arrival 
of  Blucher,  so  to  speak." 
208 


MERE  MAN 

She  bit  her  lip. 

"  But  I  can't  stay  here.  It  is  an  impossible 
situation.  Surely  you  wouldn't  think  of " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  think  your  suggestion  of  hav- 
ing the  maid  unlock  the  door  is  best.  It  will 
relieve  the  impossibility  of  the  situation." 

She  clasped  her  hands  behind  her  and  squared 
her  shoulders. 

"  I  do  not  propose  to  let  you  go,"  she  cried. 

He  opened  and  shut  the  pocket-knife  that  lay 
in  his  hand. 

"  Ah,  there  spoke  Boadicea  !  "  he  said. 

"  What  good  will  it  do  you  to  leave  the  room  ? 
You  don't  know  where  you  are." 

"  But  I  do.  This  is  Mrs.  Devine's  house.  I 
know  the  country  about  here  quite  well.  An 
old  college  friend  of  mine,  a  certain  Reverend 
Richard  Dinsmore,  lives  not  more  than  half  a 
mile  away.  I  should  rouse  him  up  in  the  dead 
of  the  night,  and  in  the  morning  he  would  see 
that  I  reached  Washington.  You  see  I  am  not 
without  resources." 

The  blood  slowly  mounted  to  her  cheeks. 
209 


MERE  MAN 

"  But  you  cannot  keep  me  here — in  the  room 
with  you." 

"  I  leave  that  to  you." 

"  In  twenty-four  hours  gossip  will  have  car- 
ried it  everywhere.  Surely  you  cannot  let  that 
happen  to — any  woman." 

He  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fireplace. 

"  I  suggest,"  he  said,  evenly,  "  that  you  call 
the  maid." 

Anger  rose  in  her  breast.     Her  eyes  flashed. 

"  Once,"  she  cried,  indignantly,  "  you  told  me 
you  loved  me.  If  that  were  true,  you  would 
not  be  willing  to  submit  me  to  this  indignity." 

He  strode  across  the  room  and  grasped  both 
her  wrists.  Instead  of  breaking  away  from  him 
she  looked  up  at  him,  round-eyed  with  wonder. 
He  gazed  down  at  her,  his  lips  firmly  drawn. 

44  You  have  pitted  your  reputation,"  he  said, 
quietly,  "  against  my  reputation — your  honor  as 
a  woman,  which  I  respect  as  heaven  itself  be- 
cause I  do  love  you,  against  what  I  feel  is  my 
honor  and  duty  as  a  member  of  the  Congress  of 
these  United  States.  That  is  something  you,  if 
210 


MERE  MAN 

you  cared  for  me  one  slight  atom,  would  not  ask 
me  to  recede  from." 

She  slowly  raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

"  Would  you  have  me  recede  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  she  whispered. 

Suddenly  his  arms  went  about  her  and  held 
her  motionless.  She  did  not  resist,  but  lay  for 
a  moment  in  his  embrace.  Then  she  raised 
her  head  and  pushed  him  away  from  her. 

"  You  are  still,  however,"  she  announced, 
"  my  prisoner." 

"  I  always  have  been,"  he  replied,  quietly. 

"  And  I  have  no  intention  of  letting  you  go." 

"  Please  heaven,  no." 

She  smiled. 

"  You  are  speaking  in  allegories,"  she  said. 
"  I  am  severely  literal.  My  duty  to  hold  you 
here  is  as  imperative  as  your  duty  to  go."  She 
made  a  step  forward  and  held  his  wrists  between 
her  thumbs  and  forefingers.  "Would  you 
have  me  recede  ?  "  she  asked,  severely. 

He  caught  her  tightly  to  him. 

"  A  hundred  times  no  I  "  he  exclaimed. 

211 


MERE  MAN 

"  What  are  we  to  do  then  ? "  she  asked, 
quietly. 

He  knitted  his  brows. 

"  You  will  not  let  me  go  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  whispered. 

"And  I  will  not  let  you  go." 

"  According  to  the  rules,  then,"  he  went  on, 
"  we  should  both  go  on  a  hunger  and  thirst 
strike." 

She  broke  away  from  him. 

"  You  are  not  serious,"  she  cried. 

He  followed  her  and  stood  above  her  chair. 

"  I  am  very  serious  now,"  he  said,  gravely. 
"  I  have  a  tremendous  suggestion  to  make." 

She  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  seized  both  her  hands  and  held  them  in 
his. 

"  You  must  marry  me,  Deborah.     Now." 

She  caught  her  breath.  The  blood  ran  hot 
and  cold  in  her.  She  forced  a  laugh. 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying,"  she 
said,  faintly. 

212 


MERE  MAN 

He  leaned  over  and  took  her  face  in  his 
hands. 

"  You  cannot  stay  with  me  otherwise,"  he 
told  her,  "  and  I  will  not  let  you  leave." 

"  But,"  she  whispered,  turning  her  flushed 
face  up  to  him,  "  I  have  promised.  I  cannot 
do  it." 

He  strode  up  and  down  the  room. 

"My  dearest  Deborah" — it  was  the  second 
time  he  had  used  her  name — "  something  has 
to  break.  You  won't  let  me  go  out  of  this 
room.  I  won't  let  you  go.  You  can't  stay — 
unless  you  marry  me.  And  you  say  you  can't 
marry  me." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  You  have  two  evils  to  choose  from.  You 
have  either  to  let  me  go — or  marry  me.  Choose 
the  least." 

It  was  a  long  five  minutes  that  passed.  She 
leaned  forward  with  her  elbows  on  the  arms  of 
the  chair  and  her  fingers  interlaced.  There 

was  no  necessity  of  choosing.    She  had  chosen 

213 


MERE  MAN 

long  ago.  She  wanted  him.  As  far  as  her 
heart  was  concerned  she  would  have  let  him 
carry  her  off  then  wherever  he  wished  and  marry 
her.  But  there  were  other  considerations.  She 
raised  her  shoulders  presently  with  the  air  of 
dismissing  the  whole  subject.  He  noted  the 
gesture. 

She  glanced  at  him  and  caught  the  serious- 
ness in  his  eyes.  She  reached  up  and  took  the 
lapels  of  his  coat  in  her  hands. 

"Well,  Sir  Fixit,"  she  said,  gently,  "how 
could  two  people  be  married  in  the  midst  of 
such  a  night  ?  " 

"  Why  did  Providence,"  he  cried,  "  provide 
me  with  my  dear  friend,  Rev.  Richard  Dinsmore, 
but  for  this  identical  purpose  ?  You  know,"  he 
went  on,  presently,  "this  place  to  which  you 
have  carried  me  is  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Gretna 
Green  district,  so  to  speak." 

"  You  wretch  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Of  course,  I  understand  that  nothing  was 
further  from  your  thoughts  than " 

She  bent  a  look  of  great  severity  upon  him. 
214 


MERE  MAN 

'  "  Now  I  shall  never  marry  you,"  she  an- 
nounced. 

She  stood  for  a  long  while  by  the  fireplace 
with  her  foot  on  the  fender. 

"  We  have  been  talking  foolishness,"  she  said, 
quietly.  "  You  know  why  I  could  not  marry 
you  under  any  circumstances." 

He  strode  over  to  her — and  played  his  last 
and  biggest  card. 

"  You  promised  not  to  marry,  for  the  purpose 
of  helping  woman's  suffrage.  You  are  holding 
me  here,  for  the  purpose  of  helping  woman's 
suffrage.  Which  is  the  more  important  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  decide  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  telephone  in  this  house.  Call  up 
your  headquarters,  or  your  general-in-chief,  and 
find  out." 

She  started.  A  light  of  relief  broke  upon  her 
face.  It  seemed  to  be  the  way  out. 

A  knock  sounded  upon  the  door. 

"  Half  hour  is  up,  Miss  Carver,"  said  the 
maid. 

"Just  a  moment,  Martha."     Deborah   rose 
215 


MERE  MAN 

and  turned  to  Lea.  "You  are  coming  with 
me?" 

He  nodded. 

"  Do  you  promise  to  come  back  with  me,  if 
necessary  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  he  replied. 

She  swept  across  the  room. 

"Unlock  the  door,  Martha,"  she  said. 


216 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NO  one  could  have  known,  from  watching 
Lea's  calm  face,  the  tremendous  impor- 
tance to  him  of  the  outcome  of  that  interview. 
He  sat  upon  the  sofa  in  the  hall  idly  fingering 
his  watch-fob  and  following  with  his  eye  the 
moulded  plaster  pattern  on  the  ceiling.  But 
each  time  Deborah  cried  once  more,  "  Hello," 
patiently  waiting  to  get  Mrs.  Dobson,  he  glanced 
across  at  her  expectantly.  Finally  Deborah 
said : 

"  Is  this  Mrs.  Dobson  ?  " 

Pause.     He  watched  her  face  keenly. 

"  This,"  said  Deborah,  "  is  Deborah  Carver. 
....  Quite  safe  ....  Yes  ....  He  is  here. 
That's  you,"  she  observed,  putting  her  handover 
the  transmitter.  There  was  a  long  pause. 
"  You  say  they  did  lose  their  way  ....  Can't 

get  any  one  to  come  out  until  the  morning. 

217 


MERE  MAN 

....  But,  Mrs.  Dobson,  you  can  see  the  posi- 
tion it  puts  me  in." 

There  was  another  long  pause.     At  length 
Deborah  said : 

"Mrs.   Dobson,    I   can't  stay  here.     I   must 

either  let  him  go  or "    She  hesitated.   There 

was  the  buzz  in  the  receiver  of  some  one  talk- 
ing. She  listened.  "  I  know.  It  would  spoil 
the  whole  undertaking  ....  I  understand  its 
importance  but  ....  Yes,  I  have  another 
scheme  ....  I  could  do  it  ....  Alone 

....  Yes  ....  Then  listen How  shall 

I  say  this?"  she  broke  off,  turning  her  flushed 
face  to  him. 

"  Just  tell  her." 

"Hello,  Mrs.    Dobson.     The  scheme   is — to 

marry  him.     Marry — M-a-r-r-y "    Deborah 

turned  to  Lea.  "  She  says  it  doesn't  sound  like 
anything  but '  marry '  to  her."  She  spoke  again 
in  the  receiver.  "That's  what  I  mean  .... 
Exactly." 

Lea  stood  up  like  a  man  about  to  receive  the 
verdict  of  a  jury.     Deborah  spoke  again. 
218 


MERE  MAN 

"Yes  ....  It  w  a  sacrifice.  But  I  cannot 
stay  with  him  otherwise  ....  I  put  the  ques- 
tion up  to  you — shall  I  let  him  go  to  appear 
in  the  House  to-morrow — or  shall  I  break  my 
promise  as  to  marrying  ?  " 

Lea  waited.  He  stood  behind  her,  his  hands 
tightly  clenched. 

"  Is  this  what  you  said,"  asked  Deborah,  in  a 
second,  "  Keep  him  here  at  any  cost  ?  "  Pause. 
"I  understand.  I  will  keep  him  here  at  any 
cost." 

He  leaned  over  and  kissed  her  hair.  And 
when  she  stood  up,  her  knees  shook. 

"Hold  me  tight.  Tight,"  she  cried.  "I'm 
frightened." 

He  held  her.  The  maid  sitting  in  the  corner 
by  the  stairs  made  no  difference. 

"  If  you  do  not  want  me "  he  began. 

She  put  her  hand  over  his  mouth. 

"  You  are  the  only  thing  I  want.  Hurry," 
she  exclaimed. 

He  turned  to  the  maid. 

"  Miss  Carver  and  I,"  he  said,  with  a  calm- 
219 


MERE  MAN 

ness  he  did  not  feel,  "  are  to  be  married  here  in 
half  an  hour  or  so." 

The  maid  leaped  to  her  feet.  Lea  seized  the 
telephone. 

"  Dick  Dinsmore,"  he  said,  into  that  instru- 
ment, after  a  month  of  delay.  "  This  is  John 
Lea.  Please  come  over  here  and  marry  me. 
Right  away  ....  Bring  a  license  clerk  .... 
Think  of  Peary  in  the  arctic  zone,  man,  and  this 
wind  will  be  but  the  breath  of  spring  .... 
Ride  a  horse,  walk,  fly  on  your  angel  wings 
....  Did  you  ever  hear  the  story  of  the  good 
Samaritan  ....  Here  is  your  chance  .... 
I  am  waiting  for  you  by  the  wayside  .... 
Many  thanks.  If  you  knew  how  glorious  a  mo- 
ment this  was  for  me  you  would  not  blame  me 
for  making  this  test  of  your  friendship." 

It  was  a  strange  wedding  ceremony  that  mar- 
ried Deborah  Carver — not  like  the  orange-blos- 
som event  she  had  dreamed  about  a  thousand 
times — no  thought-over  dress  to  preserve  with 
tender  memories,  nothing  old  carefully  selected, 
nothing  new,  nothing  borrowed,  nothing  blue  ; 

220 


MERE  MAN 

no  friend  of  her  childhood  to  pin  back  her  veil, 
no  organ,  no  guests,  no  friend  at  all  save  the 
man  she  was  to  marry.  But  he  was  church  and 
choir  for  her,  and  in  his  heart  she  knew  was 
music  more  sonorous  than  wedding  marches. 
That  simple  ceremony  with  the  deep-voiced 
friend  of  John  Lea's  college  days  reading  the 
service,  his  eye  not  on  the  open  book,  with  only 
the  maid  and  the  license  clerk  as  guests  and 
witnesses,  with  the  man  who  was  to  be  her  hus- 
band saying  his  responses  in  a  firm,  strong, 
happy  voice,  she  could  not  look  upon  with  any- 
thing save  pleasure,  and  wonder  and  an  all- 
compelling  gratitude. 

In  a  short  time  it  was  all  over  and  on  her 
finger  was  John  Lea's  seal  ring — a  strange  wed- 
ding sign,  but  becoming  on  her  long,  slender 
finger.  They  found  that  Martha  had  set  a  wed- 
ding breakfast  in  the  dining-room  with  candles 
on  the  table  and  all  Mrs.  Devine's  best  linen 
and  silver.  It  was  not  an  elaborate  menu  such 
as  might  have  been  published  with  effect  in  the 

papers,  but  one  of  quite  substantial  foods  which 

221 


MERE  MAN 

were  more  than  welcome  to  Deborah  and  Lea, 
who,  at  half-past  one  in  the  morning,  were  fam- 
ished from  their  long  fast. 

The  license  clerk,  a  certain  Mr.  Dobbs,  sat 
very  stiffly  at  the  board  and  shot  back  his  cuffs 
at  intervals,  blinking  at  the  light  like  an  owl, 
and  never  opening  his  mouth  save  for  the  pur- 
pose of  eating  or  to  yawn  covertly  behind  his 
hand.  A  cross  section  through  his  brain  would 
probably  have  disclosed  the  word  "sleep," 
blazoned  in  large  letters  upon  it.  He  was  not 
what  might  be  called  an  ideal  wedding  guest, 
but  at  least  he  had  the  virtue  of  being  sincere. 

At  length  Mr.  Dinsmore,  feeling  that  the  oc- 
casion was  drawing  to  a  close,  or  else  having 
compassion  on  Mr.  Dobbs,  rose  from  the  table. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said  to  Deborah,  "  that  you 
have  no  bouquet  to  throw.  Mr.  Dobbs  would 
enjoy  catching  it.  For  though  he  dispenses 
marriage  licenses  daily  by  the  thousand,  he  is 
thoroughly  single;  starving  as  it  were  in  the 
midst  of  plenty." 

Mr.  Dobbs  blushed  fiery  red,  as  if  he  had 
222 


MERE  MAN 

swallowed  something  down  the  wrong  throat, 
and  had  to  shoot  back  his  cuffs  two  or  three 
times  to  regain  his  composure. 

Deborah  smiled  at  him — with  something  ap- 
proaching affection ;  for  was  he  not  the  only 
guest  at  her  wedding  ?  Mr.  Dobbs  assumed  an 
attitude  of  a  little  more  ease  and  murmured 
something  about  the  pleasantness  of  the  occa- 
sion. 

"Good-night,  Mrs.  Lea,"  cried  Dinsmore, 
noting  the  embarrassment  the  unexpected  title 
caused  her.  "  I  have  known  John  many  years," 
he  said,  seriously,  "  and  I  know  of  no  gentler, 
sturdier,  more  comforting  soul  than  is  he.  I 
trust  you  will  both  be  happy." 

And  then  to  her  surprise  and  confusion,  he 
kissed  her.  Mr.  Dobbs  did  not  kiss  her,  but 
shook  hands  with  her  with  one  straight  motion 
like  a  man  shifting  the  gear  lever  of  an  automo- 
bile, and  then  walked  after  Mr.  Dinsmore,  his 
shoes  squeaking  impressively.  Deborah  and 
Lea,  through  the  window,  watched  them  mount 

their  horses  and  ride  off  in  the  snow. 

223 


MERE  MAN 

The  maid  was  standing  in  the  hallway. 

"  Did  the  chauffeur  that  brought  us  and  the 
red-headed  man  try  to  go  back?"  Lea  asked 
her  as  he  turned  the  key  in  the  big  lock  of  the 
front  door. 

Martha  said  they  did. 

"  I  hope  they  didn't  run  into  trouble." 

The  maid  disappeared,  leaving  them  alone. 
Deborah,  across  the  hall,  stood  looking  at 
him. 

"Tired?"  he  asked. 

She  nodded. 

He  strode  to  her  and  she  dropped  contentedly 
into  his  arms. 

"  Fighting  for  the  suffrage,"  he  said,  gently, 
"  is  fatiguing." 

"The  suffrage."  She  smiled.  "Think  of 
fighting  for  that  when  there  was  this,"  putting 
her  hand  over  his  heart,  "  to  fight  for." 

He  held  her  tightly  to  him.  She  buried  the 
point  of  her  chin  in  his  shoulder. 

"I  shall  be  happy,"  she  said,  seriously,  "if 

the  women  win  their  fight  for  the  suffrage  to- 
224 


MERE  MAN 

morrow,  because  they  have  worked  for  it.  But 
I  shall  never  be  reconciled  to  having  kept  my — 
my  husband,"  she  cried,  gripping  him  tightly, 
"  out  of  the  fight  when  he  wanted  to  be  in  the 
thick  of  it." 

He  did  not  look  at  her. 

"  You  are  a  glorious  person,"  he  said,  huskily. 
"  But  you  need  not  worry  on  that  score." 

She  caught  his  chin  and  turned  his  face 
toward  her. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked,  imperiously. 

"  Because,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  when  the 
House  convenes  to-morrow  they  will  immedi- 
ately take  a  recess  for  the  day  out  of  respect  to 
the  memory  of  Senator  Hemmingway,  who  was 
once  Speaker  of  the  House.  This  is  not  gener- 
ally known.  It  was  decided  just  before  I  left 
the  Capitol." 

She  lay  perfectly  motionless  in  his  arms. 
Her  surprised  eyes  gazed  at  him  as  if  her  whole 
intelligence  refused  absolutely  to  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  his  words.  Then  gradually  her 

mouth  broke   into   a  smile  and   she  laughed 

225 


MERE  MAN 

aloud.     She  raised  her  head  and  kissed  him 
upon  the  lips. 

"  The  reason  I  love  you,"  she  said,  "  is  be- 
cause I  can't  beat  you." 


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